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THE 



LIFE, . 



TIMES, AND CHARACTERISTICS 



JOHN BUNYAN, 

AUTHOR OF THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 



BY 

ROBERT PHILIP, 

AUTHOR OF 
THF LIFE AND TIMES OF WHITEFIELD ; THE EXPERIMENTAL GUIDES, &:C. 



Though thou hast " lien amongst the pots., yet shalt thou be as the wings of a dove, 
covered with silver, and her feathers with yellow gold." — David. 



NEW- YORK: 
D. APPLETON & CO. 200, BROADWAY 



M DCCC XXXIX. 






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H. LUDWIG, PRINTER, 

72, Vesey-st. 



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TO 

THOMAS THOMPSON, ESQ. 

AND 

THE HONOURABLE MRS. THOMPSON, 

OF POUNDSFORD PAUK, SOMERSETSHIRE, 

AND VANBURGH HOUSE, GREENWICH, 

THIS 

IS DEDICATED, 

BY THEIR FRIEND, 

THE AUTHOR. 



Newington Green, 
Jan. 1, 1839. 



PREFACE. 



Foreigners have long wondered, that a century and 
a half should have passed away without producing a 
Life of Bunyan. We ourselves can hardly explain this 
anomaly in our biographical literature. It has certainly 
not arisen, however, from any national indifference to 
Bunyan. Perhaps, the real reason is, that we identify 
him with his Pilgrim : for Christian is, in one sense, 
as Montgomery has well said, "a whole-length Portrait 
of the Author himself." We thus feel that we can 
know nothing better of Bunyan ; and therefore we let 
our curiosity fall asleep. And yet, it ought to occur 
to us, that he was not likely to tell all the hest^ con- 
cerning hirr.self, even in an Allegory ; for he was as 
modest as he was frank. Besides, his Pilgrim never 
writes Books, nor preaches Sermons ; and thus neither 
the literary nor the ministerial life of Bunyan has any 
place in the Allegory. In hke manner, neither Doubt- 



VIU PREFACE. 

ing Castle, nor the Cage at Vanity Fair, is any emblem 
of his own imprisonment in Bedford Jail. 

These considerations would have weighed with the 
public, and even led to a defuand for a real Life of 
Bunyan, long ago, had not every new biographical 
Sketch, repeated merely the old facts. This repressed 
curiosity ; especially when neither Dr. Soulhey nor Mr. 
Conder added any thing to the old facts, but new and 
beautiful forms. Even Mr. Ivimey, the historian of 
the Baptists, made but few discoveries, although he 
threw some valuable hghts upon both "the Pilgrim" 
and "Grace Abounding." 

There is neither censure nor sarcasm in these re- 
marks. No one, perhaps, who had only a literary 
purpose to answer, "would have prepared an Ark for 
the saving" of Bunyan's Remains : whereas, the Author 
of this Volume had to complete the design of his "Ex- 
perimental Guides for the Perplexed and Doubting," by 
an explanation of the wondeiful and mysterious expe- 
rience of John Bunyan. He had thus a motive which 
compelled him to search diligently. He had also, on 
both sides of the Atlantic, a circle of readers, large 
enough for his ambition, and upon whom he could 
calculate, if his researches were successful. They have 
been so, beyond even his most sanguine expectations. 



PREFACE. IX 

He discovered much that was unknown or unnoticed 
hitherto, as well as much to enlarge and illustrate what 
is best known in the history of Bunyan. Whilst, 
therefore, the Work is partly experimental, it is chiefly 
biographical^ and intended equally for the world and 
the Church. It claims, indeed, to be as complete a 
Life of Bunyan, as his own documents, or the tradi- 
tions of his country, can furnish, at this late period: 
for although as the Ark of his Remains, it has more 
pitch than paint upon it, and is rather Puritanical than 
fashionable in its shape : it is not ill stored with facts, 
nor overloaded with priv^ate opinions. There are, indeed, 
both opinions and principles in it, and not few of them ; 
but they are neither " creeping things'^ in their form, 
nor uncathoUc in their spirit. They are not ceremo- 
nious ; but they are never sectarian, except Protestant- 
ism be so. 

This Volume will be followed by a Standard Family 
Edition of the Pilgrim's Progress, from Bunyan's re- 
vised text ; and illustrated by old Prints or new Draw- 
ings of its local Scenery, and with Notes chiefly from 
his own pen. Some of the Prints were intended for 
his Life ; but only that of his Cottage could be fin- 
ished in time. Wiien ready, however, they may be 
had, separately, to bind up with this Volume. 



V 



X PREFACE. 

The Author has been much facilitated in his re- 
searches by Librarians especially. As usual, he is not 
a little indebted to his friend Joshua Wilson, Esq. and 
to the Rev. Mr. Belcher of Bunyan Chapel, Green- 
wich. His obligations to friends at Bedford are ac- 
knowledged in the body of the Work. To his friend 
Mr. William Dash, of Kettering, he is indebted for the 
hest of the old editions of the Pilgrim's Progress ; to 
Mr. Althens, Jun., for the loan of Boetius a' Bolswerts' 
Pilgrim, of 1627 ; to Mr. R. Baines, for not a few 
scarce books ; to B. Hanbury, Esq. of the Bank ; and 
last, though not least, to the Baptist College at Bristol. 

R. P. 



CONTENTS, 



CHAPTER 

I. Buntan's Boyhood 

II. BCNTAN IN THE ArMY 

III. Bunyan's Marriage 

IV. Bunyan's First Reformation 
V. Bunyan's Second Reformation 

VI. Bunyan's Conversion . 

VII. Bunyan's Conflicts. 

VIII. Bunyan's Counsellors 

IX. Bunyan's Relapses 

X. Bunyan's Temptations 

XI. Bunyan's Revivals 

XII. BUNYAN AND LUTHER . 

XIII. Satan and his Angels 

XIV. Bunyan's Crisis . . 
XV. Bunyan's Baptism 

XVI. Bunyan's Sick Bed 

XVII. Bunyan's Call to the Ministry 

XVIII. BuNYAN AND THE ClUAKERS 

XIX. Bunyan's Example 

XX. Bunyan's Ministerial Position 

XXI. Bunyan's Arrest 

XXII. Bunyan's Trial 

XXIII. Bunyan'$ Defence , . 



PAOB 

13 

24 

30 

35 

45 

53 

66- 

87 

94 

103 

114 

124 

130 

143 

179 

186 

193 

201 

208 

215 

227 

245 

254 



Xll 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER 

XXIV. Buntan's Second Wife 

XXV. BUNTAN AND THE PrAYER BOOK 

XXVI. Buntan's Favourite Sermon 

XXVII. Buntan's Thunderbolts 

XXVIII. Buntan's Anecdotes 

XXIX. Buntan's Jailor 

XXX. Buntan and the Baptists 

XXXf. Buntan's Prison Thoughts v 

XXXIL Buntan's Prison Amusements 

XXXIII. Buntan's Moral Philosophy v 

XXXIV. Buntan's Wit . 
XXXV. Buntan's Conceits 

XXXVI. Buntan's Church Persecuted 

XXXVII. Buntan's Pastoral Letters 

XXXVIII. Buntan's Calvinism .. 

XXXIX. Buntan's Trinitarianism 

XL. Buntan's Catholicity / 

XLI. Buntan's Release 

XLII. Buntan's Calumniators 

XLIII. Buntan's Pastorship 

XLIV. Buntan's Bibliography 

XLV. Buntan's Last Dats 

XL VI. Traditions and Relics of Buntan 

XLVII. Buntan's Genius 



PAGE 

263 

270* 

275 

283 

290 

304 

312 

319 

332 

346 

357 

371 

378 

386 

401 

408 

415 

422 

427 

449 

457 

473 

483 

491 



THE 



LIFE OF BUNYAN 



CHAPTER I. 



BUNYAN S BOYHOOD 



A STRANGER, who admlres and loves Biinyan, approaches 
Bedford as a poet or a divine would enter Smyrna ; the form- 
er thinking only of Homer, and the latter only of Polycarp ; 
and both trying how vividly they can realize the image of 
their favourite, amidst the scenes once consecrated by his 
presence, and still enshrined by his memory. It is no diffi- 
cult thing, I suppose, for a real poet, if he believes Herodotus, 
to imagine the rocks of Smyrna vocal yet with the harp of 
Homer ; nor for a real Christian, if he credits Eusebius, to 
mistake the evening sun-light upon them, for the last glimmer- 
ings of Pylycarp's martyr-pile. Even I felt no difficulty, on 
entering Bedford, and walking around it, to associate every 
thing with Bunyan, or to enshrine any thing with his Pilgrim, 
The town, indeed, did not seem to me " the City of Destruc- 
tion;" and the bridge was too good, and the water too clear, 
to allow the river to be regarded as "the Slough of Despond:" 
but it was hardly possible not to see Christian in every poor 
man who carried a burden, and Christiana in every poor wo- 
man who carried a market-basket in one hand, and led a child 
with the other. One sweet-looking peasant girl, also, might 
have been Mercy's youngest sister. She would have been 
2 



14 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

beautiful anywhere ; but she was enchanting upon the spot 
where Bunyan's Mercy (that finished portrait of female love- 
liness) had walked and wept. In like manner, any ragged 
urchin, if only robust and boisterous enough, and evidently 
the ringleader of fun or mischief, seemed the boy Bunyan 
himself, although only a few minutes before a venerable old 
man had seemed the very personification of the Baptist Minis- 
ter of Bedford : but no one seemed to be the Glorious Dreamer, 
although many looked sleepy enough. 

There is wisdom as well as weakness in such reveries, 
when the memory that inspires them is really immortal. If 
Dr. Johnson was warranted to say at Icolmkill, "Far from me 
be such frigid philosophy as would conduct us indiJEferent or 
unmoved over any ground dignified by wisdom, bravery, or 
virtue : that man is little to he envied whose piety would not 
grow warmer among the ruins of lona — that illustrious island, 
from which savage clans and roving barbarians derived the 
benefits of knowledge and the blessings of religion ;" any man 
who can feel may rationally give way to all his feelings at 
Bedford bridge, where the Glorious Dreamer conceived and 
wrote The Pilgrim's Progress. That one book has diffused 
more light over Christendom, than lona ever did over the 
Hebrides, even when it was "the luminary of the Caledonian 
regions." lona will never be the light of the North again: 
but the Pilgrim will be one of the chief lights of the world un- 
til the end of time. 

It is strange, but it is true, that the mind, although occu- 
pied, and even absorbed, with the remote as well as the imme- 
diate visions of Bunyan's incalculable influence upon the 
world at large, should yet keep the eye of the musing visitor 
searching the fields and hedges around Bedford, for spots 
where the wild tinder-boy was likely to have played at cat, 
and taken dangerous leaps, and robbed orchards. It is, how- 
ever, impossible not to pause every now and then, as if the 
marks of his heels were yet visible on the other side of the 
ditches, and the marks of his knife upon the old trees. He was 
such a thorough scapegrace whilst a boy, that all marks of 
mischief and daring seem left by him alone. 

Bunyan was born in the year 1628, at Elstow, a village 
near Belford. His father, although a tinker, and thus, of 
course, a tramper often, and very poor, does not seem to have 
had any real connexion with the gypsy tinkers. Bunyan 
says, indeed, " My father's house (meaning his descent) was 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. I5 

of that rank that is meanest and most despised of all the fami- , 
lies of the land." This implies that they had somewhat iden- 
tified themselves with the gypsies, or allowed themselves to be 
classed with them. He does not, however, say, nor insinuate, 
that his parents were personally despised by their neighbours, 
or that they were profligate. I have now before me two old 
Sketches of his Life, which state that they were " honest, 
and bore a fair character." He himself records with gratitude, 
that notwithstanding their meanness and inconsiderableness, 
God put into their hearts " to put me to school, to learn me both 
to read and write, according to the rate of other poor men's 
children." — Life by Himself. 

This is so rarely done by tinkers, even now, that the fact 
warrants the report of the " fair character" of his parents, at 
least for honesty and industry. It deserves special notice also, 
that Bunyan does not ascribe any of his own vices to their ex- 
ample. He says nothing, indeed, against them. On the other 
hand, however, he says but little in their favour, except that 
they sent him to school ; and that most likely, cost them no- 
thing. The Harpur Grammar School in Bedford, founded in 
1556, by Sir W. Harpur, Mayor of London, for teaching 
" grammar and good manners," was then open to the children 
of the poor ; and Elstow itself, as the seat of one of the oldest 
abbeys, may have had some charitable foundation of the same 
kind. It was then in the possession of the Hildersons, anci 
continued in that family until WJiifbread purchased it. The 
abbey was founded in the reign of William the Conqueror, by 
Judith, his niece, the then Countess of Huntingdon : a fact 
which had, perhaps, no small influence upon her illustrious 
successor, Selina, when she consecrated her wealth, as well 
as her heart, to the glory of God. 

If Bunyan was educated at the Harpur School, he certainly 
did not learn "good manners,^' whatever "grammar" he ac- 
quired there. "From a child," he says, " I have but few 
equals, (considering my years, which were then but tender 
and few,) for cursing, swearing, lying, and blaspheming the 
holy name of God. Yea, so settled and rooted was I in these 
things, that they became as a second nature to me." 

Thus the school, whatever it was, had no moral influence 
upon the pupil. Bunyan says nothing of his master, as having 
ever interfered by the rod or reproof to check or warn him, 
when he began his open ungodliness. There is, therefore, 
gome reason to suspect, that his teacher never tried at all, nor 



16 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

his parents much, to bring him up in the fear of God. This 
4S a painful conclusion : but I know of nothing to soften it ; 
except we suppose that he drew the picture of his own boy- 
hood, partly, in the early life of his Badman. He says of 
him, " From a child he was very bad. He used to be, as we 
say, the ringleader and master-sinner from a child ; the in- 
ventor of bad words, and an example of bad actions. When a 
child, his parents scarce knew when to believe he spake true. 
He was also much given to pilfer and steal the things of his 
fellow-children, or any thing at a neighbour's house. Yea, 
what was his father's could not escape his fingers. All was 
fish that came to his net. You must understand me, o^ trifles : 
for being yet but a child, he attempted no great matter, espe- 
cially at first. He was also greatly given, and that whilst a 
lad, to grievous cursing and swearing. He counted it a glory 
to swear and curse ; and it was as natural to him as to eat, 
drink, and sleep." — Life and Death of Mr, Badmam. 

This is not only very like what Bunyan says of himself in 
his own Life ; but it is told with an ease and a point, which 
experience alone could have reached. Mr. Badman was, no 
doubt, a real character, whom Bunyan knew and studied : 
but he certainly studied "the young rogue's" boyhood, because 
of its resemblance to his own. He either saw himself reflected 
in that lad ; or he completed Badman's image from his own 
features, to heighten its effect. This being evidently the fact, 
it may be equally true that he refers to his own parents, when 
he says, " To my knowledge," young Badman's " way of 
Hving was a great grief to his parents ; for their hearts were 
much dejected at this beginning of their son. Nor did there 
want counsel or correction from them to him, if that would 
have made him better. He was told over and over again, in 
my hearing, that all liars should have their portion in the lake 
that burneth with fire and brimstone." " I dare (to) say, he 
learned none of his wicked things from his father and mother, 
nor was he admitted to go much abroad among other children 
that were vile, to learn to sin of them." 

If there be any reference here to his own parents, it will ac- 
count for the fact, that he never blames them for a bad exam- 
ple ; and it will explain his " fearful looking for of judgment 
and fiery indignation," whilst he was but a boy. That is 
unaccountable, perhaps, otherwise. The following picture of 
his conscience tells at once, that solemn truths had been 



LIPEOFBUNYAN. 17 

lodged in his memory, and fixed in his imagination, by some 
human means, whatever they were. " Even in my childhood, 
the Lord did scare and afTrighten me with fearful dreams, and 
did terrify me with fearful visions. For often, after I had 
spent this and the other day in sin, I have in my bed been 
greatly afflicted while asleep, with the apprehension of devils 
and wicked spirits, who still, as I then thought, laboured to 
draw me away with them : of which I could never be rid. 

" Also I should at these years, be greatly afflicted and trou. 
bled with the thoughts of the fearful torments of hell-fire : still 
fearing, that it would be my lot to be found at last among 
those devils and hellish fiends, who are bound down with the 
chains and bonds of darkness, unto the judgment of the great 
day. 

" These things, I say, when I was but a child, — but nine 
or ten years old — did so distress my soul, that then in the 
midst of my many sports and childish vanities, amidst my 
vain companions, I was often cast down and afflicted in my 
mind therewith : yet could I not let go my sins. Yea, I was 
also, then, so overcome with despair of life and heaven, that 
I should often wish, either that there had been no hell, or that 
I had been a devil, supposing they were only tormentors ; or 
that, if it must needs be I went thither, I might rather be a tor- 
mentor than be tormented myself." 

All this is somewhat too much, both in vividness and va- 
riety, even for the mind of Bunyan ; unless we suppose that 
his parents, or his schoolmaster, or somebody else, had occa- 
sionally plied him with scriptural arguments against sin. 
True, the mental elements of the man were in the boy, even 
then ; and he had evidently read the Scriptures, and remem- 
bered their haunting visions of the wrath to come. It is im- 
possible, however, to refer to them his wish to be a devil, that 
thus he might be a tormentor, instead of being tormented by 
devils. Tliere is nothing in the Bible to suggest this daring 
and desperate wish : whereas there is, and always has been, 
in the vague generalities of popular talk, something akin to 
the idea, that the devil and his angels inflict more suffering 
upon the lost in hell than they themselves endure. 

I am not anxious to arrive at a certain conclusion in this 
matter, although I thus go into the question of the origin of 
his " fearful dreams," and of his daring imaginings. All I 
want to. show is, that whilst his night-dreams may be traced 
to the Bible, his day-dreams about the work of devils in the 
2.* 



18 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

invisible world must be traced to some other source ; and 
none is so likely as parental warning. We know from Bun- 
yan himself, that his father was not unacquainted with the 
Bible: "I asked my father," he says, " whether we were 
Israelites or no. For, finding in Scripture, that they were 
once the peculiar people of God, thought I, if I were one of 
the race, my soul must needs be happy. My father told me, 
*No, we were not.'" Now, although this question was put 
after his marriage, still, it reveals his opinion of his father's 
knowledge ; for after having pondered the query long, he says, 
"At last I asked my father." One reason for this was, no 
doubt, a fancy that there might be some connexion between 
the Jews and the gypsies : but it is equally evident that he had 
also some confidence in his father's judgment. Hence, when 
that was against him, he said, " Then I fell in spirit as to that 
hope, and so remained." Once also, when he was silenced 
and put to shame by a reproof from a godless woman, he 
says, " I wished, with all my heart, that I was a little child 
again, that my father might learn me to speak without 
swearing." 

Even his " fearful dreams and visions" themselves prove, 
by their effect upon his spirits, and especially by the despair 
they threw him into when he awoke, that he must have seen 
and heard others, who had similar views of Eternal Judg- 
ment. A mere boy was utterly unlikely to apply to himself 
the fiercest terrors of the wrath to come, if he had never met 
with any one to point him to them, as deserved by himself. 
The fear of them haunted him even in the " very midst of his 
sports and vain companions :" a fact which proved that he 
knew the opinion of some of his neighbours in regard to him- 
self. Indeed, nothing is more likely, than that he was often 
reproved and warned by the Puritans of Elstow and Bedford. 
His vices were just those, which the godly men and women of 
that age would most loudly condemn, and most solemnly threa- 
ten. His very sports were an abomination to them : for the 
popular games were then associated with principles which the 
Puritans both hated and dreaded. He would, therefore, have 
been often warned and reproved on the common, when a Pu- 
ritan passed by, even if oaths and blasphemies had not been 
mingled with his sports ; and as they were the very shouts of 
his gambols, he was as sure to hear a "testimony'' against 
both, as Scott's " Cuddie Headrig " from his mither, against the 
popinjay. 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 19 

Besides, there is good reason to suppose that Banyan, if 
not invited into the houses of the Puritans, was allowed to 
be present in more then one or two of them, when they read 
to their families books of" Christian piety." Accordingly, he 
says, " It was a prison to me, when I have seen some read 
these books. In these days, the thoughts of religion were 
very grievous to me. I could neither endure it myself, nor 
that any other should." 

These hints throw some light upon the readiness with 
which his conscience applied to himself " the terrors of the 
Lord :" but they leave to the Bible and his incipient genius, 
all the solemn majesty of his young dreams. These, like his 
Pilgrim, were his own creations : for, although we may have 
dreamt of the Day of Judgment, much in the same form as 
Bunyan, we only dreamt his dream over again. We had his 
example to help our duller imaginations : whereas the tinker 
boy had read nothing but his Bible. No Glorious Dreamer 
had sent him to bed, full of solemn thoughts, or dazzled with 
glaring visions. He himself knew, and never forgot, that 
fact ; and hence he ascribed his night vision to God alone : — 
" I have with soberness considered," he says, " that the Lord, 
even in my childhood, did scare and affrighten me with fearful 
dreams." 

Bunyan's dreams, then, were not always unsoflened in 
their issue. Ivimey has quoted one, to this effect : " Once he 
dreamed that he was just dropping into the flames amongst 
the damned, when a person in white raiment suddenly pluck- 
ed him as a brand out of the fire." This is the creation of 
his own mind, from the visions of Zechariah and John : and 
as "a dream cometh of a multitude of business," a part of his 
business on that day must have been the perusal of part of two ^ 
books of the Holy Scriptures. We know also where he must 
have read on the morning of the day, when he dreamt "that 
the end of the world and the day of judgment were arrived ; 
and thought that the earth quaked, and opened her mouth to 
receive him." — Ivimey^s Life, Indeed, his own versions of 
such dreams (as we shall see) all manifest an extensive famil- 
iarity with the Scriptures, and a keen perception, yea, vivid 
realization, of whatever is most appalling or magnificent in 
eternal things. He dreamt like a prophet, whilst he was only 
a boy. 

The finest illustration of this, Bunyan put into the lips of 
the man in the " chamber," at the Interpreter's house. That 



20 LIFE OF BUN YAN. 

dream may, indeed, be a compound of many of his own ; but 
it is all his own, and evidently selected from distinct recollec- 
tions of his own midnight visions in youth : it belongs, there- 
fore, to his life, as much as to his allegory ; and is the first 
grand disclosure of the real power of both his mind and con- 
science, in boyhood. He himself did not write it for this pur- 
pose, nor think, perhaps, that it would ever reveal the original 
elements of his genius. That, however, is no reason why we 
should not view it in that light. Modesty as much binds us 
to say, that the boy Bunyan dreamt, as it bound him to say, 
" the man rising out of bed, in a chamber," said, " This night, 
as I was in my sleep, I dreamed, and behold, the heavens 
grew exceeding black ; also it thundered and lightened in 
such fearful wise, that it put me in an agony. So I looked 
up in my dream, and saw the clouds rack at an unusual rate : 
upon which I heard a great sound of a trumpet, and saw also 
a man sit upon a cloud, attended with thousands of heaven. 
They were all in flaming fire ; also the heavens were in a 
burning flame. I heard then a voice saying, 'Arise, ye dead, 
and come to judgment.' And with that, the rocks rent, the 
graves opened, and the dead that were therein came forth. 
Some of them were exceeding glad, and looked upward ; and 
some sought to hide themselves under the mountains. 

" Then 1 saw the man that sat on the cloud, open the book, 
and bid the world draw near. Yet there was, by reason af 
the fierce flame which issued out, and came before him, a con^ 
venient distance betwixt him and them, as betwixt the judge 
and the prisoners at the bar. I heard it also proclaimed to 
them that attended on the man that sat on the cloud, ' Gather 
together the tares, the chaff, and the stubble, and cast them 
into the burning lake.' And with that, the bottomless pit 
opened, just whereabout I stood ; out of the mouth of which 
there came, in an abundant manner, smoke and coals of fire, 
with hideous noises. 

" It was also said to the same persons, ' Gather my wheat 
into the garner !' And with that, I saw many catchedup and 
carried away in the clouds ; but I was left behind ! I also 
sought to hide myself, but I could not ; for the man upon the 
cloud still kept his eye upon me. My sins also came into my 
mind, and my conscience did accuse me on every side; for, as 
I thought, the Judge had always his eye upon me, showing in- 
dignation in his countenance. But what afl'righted me most 
was, that the angels gathered up several,, and left me behind : 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 21 

also, the pit of hell opened her mouth just where I stood." — 
Pilgrim. 

■ Splendid as this painting is, there is not a feature of it, 
which was not shadowed out in his own first dreams. It only- 
embodied fully, and emblazons a little, what disturbed the 
sleep of the lisping blasphemer of Elstow, when neither the 
fatigue nor the excitement of daring sports could put down the 
energies of his mind or conscience. 

These energies, however, are not seen in all their early 
strength, in the current versions of his young dreams. I 
therefore subjoin another version of them, from the sketch of 
his Life, in the British Museum : — 

" He has often, since his conversion, confest with horror 
and detestation of himself, that when he was but a child, or 
at least a stripling youth, he had but few equals for lying, 
swearing, and blaspheming God's holy name, which became 
then to him as a second nature ; not considering that he must 
die, and one day give an account before the dread tribunal of 
the God of all the earth ; living, as it were, without God in 
the world ; the thoughts of which, when, by the light of di- 
vine grace, he came to understand his dangerous condition, 
drew many showers of tears from his sorrowful eyes, and sighs 
from his groaning heart. 

" The first thing that sensibly touched him in this his un- 
regenerate state, were fearful dreams, and visions of the night, 
which often made him cry out in his sleep, and alarm the 
house, as if somebody had been about to murder him ; and be- 
ing waked, he would start, and stare about him with such a 
wildness, as if some real apparition had yet remained ; and 
generally these dreams were about evil spirits, in monstrous 
shapes and forms, that presented themselves to him in threat- 
ening postures, as if they would have taken him away, or torn 
him in pieces : at sometimes they seemed to belch flame, at 
other times a contagious smoke, with horrible noises and 
roaring. 

" This continued for some time, and there came others 
somewhat of another nature, seemingly more pleasing and al- 
luring to entice those sweet darling sins that so much bewitch 
the world, and carry men away to the pit of destruction, as 
carnal concupiscential desires, thirst after rich and unlawful 
gain, vain. glory, and pomp, with many others of the same 
black stamp ; yet, when he began somewhat seriously to con, 
eider, even these wrought darkness and confusion in his soul, 



22 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

and took him with unaccountable melancholy. Once h^ 
dreamt he saw the face of the heavens, as it were, all on fire, 
the firmament crackling and shivering as with the noise of 
mighty thunders, and an archangel flew in the midst of heav- 
en sounding a trumpet, and a glorious throne was seated in the 
east, whereon sat one in brightness like the morning star ; up- 
on which he, thinking it was the end of the world, fell upon 
his knees, and, with uplifted hands towards heaven, cried, ' O 
Lord God, have mercy upon me ! what shall I do ! the day of 
Judgment is come, and 1 am not prepared !' when immediately 
he heard a voice behind him exceedingly loud, saying, * Re- 
pent;' and upon this he awoke, and found it but a dream. 
Yet, as he said, upon this he grew more serious, and it remain- 
ed in his mind a considerable time. 

" At another time he dreamed that he was in a pleasant 
place, jovial and rioting, banqueting and feasting his senses, 
when immediately a mighty earthquake rent the earth, and 
made a wide gap, oat of which came bloody flames, and the 
figures of men tossed up in globes of fire, and falling down 
again with horrible cries, shrieks, and execrations, whilst 
some devils that ^were mingled with them laughed aloud at 
their torment ; and whilst he stood trembling at this sight, he 
thought the earth sunk under him, and a circle of flame in- 
closed him ; but when he fancied he was just at the point to 
perish, one in white shining raiment descended and plucked 
him out of that dreadful place, whilst devils cried after him to 
leave him with them, to take the just punishment his sins had 
deserved ; yet he escaped the danger, and leaped for joy when 
he awoke and found it but a dream. Many others, somewhat 
to the same purpose, I might mention, as he at sundry times 
related them ; but, not to be tedious, these for a taste may 
suffice." 

Under such circumstances, and in spite of such feelings, 
Bunyan grew up into a reckless lad ; for, although wicked- 
ness of any kind in professors of religion would shock him 
even then, he himself was not afraid of sin : indeed, he feared 
nothing, when he could forget his dreams. He mentions one 
remarkable instance of fool- hardiness. " Being in the fields," 
he says, " with one of my companions, it chanced that an ad- 
der passed over the highway: so I, having a stick in my hand, 
struck her over the back ; and having stunned her, I forced 
open her mouth with my stick, and plucked her tongue out 
with vay fingers ; by which act, had not God been mercifiil to 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 23 

me, I might, by my desperateness, have brought myself to my 
end." Dr. Southey says, " If this were indeed an adder, and 
not a harmless snake, his escape from the fangs was more re- 
markable than he himself was aware of." No one, however, 
was more likely to know an adder from a snake than Bunyan ; 
for no one was more amongst the hedges and bosky banks : 
and although he was never, perhaps, fully aware of all the ve- 
nom of an adder's fangs, he has certainly made his escape ap- 
pear as remarkable as if it had been a miracle ; for, what more 
could any one say of it than he did 1 



24 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 



CHAPTER 11. 

BrNYAN IN THE ARMY. 

That a young man of Bunyan's roistering habits and reck- 
less spirit should have enlisted as a soldier, is only what might 
be expected; but it is somewhat strange (if true) that he should 
have preferred the Parliamentary to the Royal army. True ; 
he seems never to have been a drunkard ; and it is certain he 
never was licentious ; but still, as he himself could not only 
" sin with delight and ease," in his own way, but also take 
" pleasure in the vileness of his companions," the Royalists 
were most suited to his moral tastes. His blasphemy and 
blackguardism would have pleased them, and their profligacy 
would not have offended him. He joined, however, the Par- 
liamentary troops ; and, whatever cant or hypocrisy, vulgari- 
ty or vice, was prevalent amongst them, it was not of Bun- 
yan's kind, nor of the cavalier order and style. There were 
both sleek and sly villains in Cromwell's army ; and some of 
them men of no mean rank. Bunyan says, that he himself 
overheard one of them tempting virtue " in Oliver's days," by 
proposing to ascribe the fruit of shame to a miracle. " I heard 
him say this and it greatly afflicted me. I had a mind to 
have him accused before some magistrate ; but he was a great 
man, and I was poor, so I let it alone ; but it troubled me very 
much." — Badman's Life. 

This revolting at crime, although an anomaly in Bunyan's 
character, was not a new thing with him, when the criminal 
professed godliness. Years before he entered the army such in- 
consistencies shocked him. " I well remember," he says, " that 
even when I could take pleasure in the vileness of my compa- 
nions, wicked things by those who })rofessed goodness, would 
make my spirit tremble. As once, above all the rest, when I 
was at the height of my vanity, yet hearing one swear that 
was reckoned godly, it had so great a stroke upon my spirit, 
that it made my heartache." 

He was not, of course, often shocked by swearing whilst 
amongst the Roundheads, whatever vices he may have de- 



1 



LIFEOFBUNYAN, 26 

tected in some of them beneath the mask of religion. Hume 
himsehf being the judge, the character of the ParUamentary army- 
was very high when Bunyan joined it in 1645. " The private 
soldiers," Hume says, " employed their vacant hours in prayer, 
in perusing the Holy Scriptures, in ghostly conferences, where 
they compared the progress of their souls in grace, and mutual- 
ly stimulated each other to further advances in the great work 
of their salvation. When they were marching to battle, the 
whole field resounded, as well with psalms and spiritual songs 
adapted to the occasion, as with instruments of military mu- 
sic; and every man endeavoured to di*own the sense of pre- 
sent danger, in the prospect of that crown of glory which was 
set before him. In so holy a cause, wounds Avere esteemed 
meritorious; death, martyrdom; and the hurry and dangers of 
action, instead of banishing their pious visions, rather strove 
•to impress their minds more strongly with them." — Hume's 
England, vol. vii. 

Such, in general, were the men with whom Bunyan associa- 
ted, when he became a soldier. It was well for him. Had 
he joined the ranks commanded by Rupert he might have be- 
come as vile as " desolute Wilmot," or " licentious Goring," 
as Hume styles them. They are well designated. Such 
leaders would not have been allowed io follow Cromwell. 

It is well known that Cromwell's own regiment was com- 
posed of select men, "most of them freeholders, or freeholders' 
sons, who, upon matter of conscience, engaged in the quarrel," 
under him. It is not so well known, however, that he endea- 
voured to assimilate other regiments to his own, by means of 
Hampden especially. The following' account of this will be 
readily recognized as his own. The speech was addressed to 
the Parliament, when they conferred with him upon their pro- 
posal, that he should assume the title of king; " From my first 
being captain of a troop of horse, I did labour as well as I 
could to discharge my trust; and God blessed me as it pleased 
him. I had a very worthy friend then — Mr. Hampden; and 
he was a very noble person; and I know his memory is very 
grateful to all. At my first going out into that engagement 
I saw our men were beaten on every hand — I did, indeed; and 
desired him that he would make some additions to my Lord 
Essex's army, of some new regiments. And I told him, it 
would be serviceable to him in bringing such men in as I 
thought had a spirit that would do something in the work. 
* Your troops,' said I, ' are most of them old decayed serving 
3 



26 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

men, and tapsters, and such kind of fellows : and their troops 
are gentlemen's sons, younger sons, and persons of quality. 
And do you think that the spirit of such base and mean fellows 
will ever be able to encounter gentlemen that have honour, 
and courage, and resolution in them? You must get men of a 
spirit ; and, take it not ill what I say, of a spirit that is likely 
to go on as far as gentlemen will go : or else, I am sure, you 
will be beaten still.' I told him so. 

" He was a wise and worthy person, and he did think that 
I talked a good notion, but an unpracticable one. I told him, 
I could do somewhat in it ; and I raised such men as had the 
fear of God in them, and some conscience of what they did. 
And from that day forth they were never beaten ; but when- 
ever they engaged the enemy, they beat continually." — Peck's 
Cromwell. 

Thus Sprat, of Oxon, had no occasion to unsay as a bishop 
what he sang whilst a poet : — 

" Others, by thee, great things did do; 
Triumph'dst thyself, and madest them triumph too." 

Pindaric Ode. 

This is enough for my purpose, concerning both Cromwell 
and the Parliamentary army. What they M^ere in relation 
to law or policy belongs to the historian. I have, of course, 
my own opinion ; and, as a monarchical man, I devoutly wish 
that kings would cultivate Cromwell's manliness, without his 
cant ; and the army the religious habits of his soldiers, with- 
out their vagaries. I certainly think him a usurper ; but I 
quite agree with Locke, in thinking him " a mighty prince ; 
greater far" than "Julius or Augustus." He so ruled in 
peace, what he gained in war, that his character turned 
Locke into a poet for the moment. There is understanding, 
as well as imagination, in the Metaphysician's sonnet to 
Cromwell : — 

** You sure from heaven a finished hero fell, 
"Who thus alone two pagan gods excel." 

Banks' Critical Rev. oj CromioeWs Life. 

That Bunyan was in the Parliamentary, not the Royal army, 
is not to be learned from himself, so far as I know : and it is 
not proved by those who say that he was at the siege of Leices- 
ter, in 1645, except to those who know more than Hume tells. 
Bunyan himself says, " that he was drawn out to go to a place 
to besiege it;" but he does not name the place. Now the 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 27 

only siege of Leicester described by Hume, in 1645, was by 
the King's troops. 

That Bunyan was in the service of the Parliament is, how- 
ever more than probable. Bedfordshire was one of the first 
counties to declare against the King. Its Annalist says, the 
King had " no visible party, or fixed quarters" there. It was, 
however, in Bedford that Bunyan enlisted : besides, the author 
of the Sketch of his Life (preserved in the British Museum,) 
who evidently knew him personally, and, had had many inter- 
views with him, says expressly, "He often acknowledged, with 
uplifted hands and eyes, a wonderful providence : for, in June 
1645, being at the siege of Leicester, he was called out to be 
one who should make a violent attack on the town, (then) vi- 
gorously defended by the King's forces against the Parliamen- 
tarians." This is decisive; and the fact is worth proving, be- 
cause it will go far to prove also, that Bunyan was in the 
battle of Naseby ; and there, as well as at the second siege of 
Leicester, caught some of those military tactics which enabled 
him, afterwards to write his " Holy War." This is my chief 
reason for going into the question. 

Now, the siege of Leicester, at which Bunyan was present, 
although it did not exactly begin on the very day after the bat- 
tle of Naseby, was prepared for on that day, although it was 
the Sabbath-day. Rush worth says, that Fairfax marched on 
Sunday to Leicester, with all his army, to besiege it. Naseby 
was fought on the Saturday : the besiegers of the town were, 
therefore, the conquerors from that field. It is thus evident, 
that Bunyan was in the field ; for only the army of that day 
was at the siege, and he was one of the besiegers. He saw, 
therefore, on that day, Ireton maintaining his post against 
the fiery Rupert, even after his thigh was run through with a 
pike ; and Skippon refusing to quit the field, at the desire of 
Fairfax, although dangerously wounded ; and Cromwell over- 
whelming Landale, and routing the King. 

We shall see, by and by, that he must have been an atten- 
tive observer of both the men and the manoeuvres of this great 
field-day. Indeed, he seems to have been a better observer of 
others than an expert soldier himself. This does not appear 
from his own account ; but his Jirst biographer says express- 
ly, " He appearing to the officer to be somewhat awkward in 
handling his arms, another man voluntarily thrust himself 
into his place." — Life from the Museum Sketch, 

I mention this before giving his own account of the matter, 



28 LIFE OF BUN YAN. 

because that is too serious to be interrupted by any expknation. 
He says, with great emotion, " This, also, have I taken notice 
of with thanksgiving : — when I was a soldier, I, with others, 
were drawn out to go to such a place to besiege it, but when 
I was just ready to go one of the company desired to go, in my 
room : to which, when 1 had consented, he took my place ; and 
coming to the siege, as he stood sentinel, he was shot in the 
head and died. Here were judgment and mercy ; but neither 
of them did awaken my soul to righteousness ; wherefore I sin- 
ned still, and grew more and more rebellious against God, and 
careless of my own salvation." 

Bunyan's reason for not specifying the side on which he 
fought, nor the place of this escape is obvious. He was a prison- 
er for nonconformity when he wrote his Life ; and as such, had 
but too many enemies, without the addition of political foes. 
His Book also was dedicated to his flock and friends, who 
were persecuted for conscience' sake at the time ; and he had 
too much regard for them, to enable political or ecclesiastical 
libellers to twit them with the charge of adhering to an old Re- 
publican. Besides, he was contemplating at this time his 
" Holy War ;" and, that the Leaders in that Allegory might 
not be identified with the Generals on either side in the civil 
wars, he wisely gave no clue to the sources of his knowledge. 
There was much wisdom in this silence ; as we shall see, when 
that Allegory comes to be analyzed. The only thing neces- 
sary here is, to remember his extreme youth when he became 
a soldier, and the short period of his continuance in the army. 
He could hardly be seventeen years of age when he enlisted^ 
and he left before he was nineteen. Now, although there was 
much to be seen in a short time, where Cromwell and Fairfax 
led the way, it required no ordinary eyes to trace their move- 
ments, and appreciate their tactics. Young Bunyan did both, 
and remembered them all through life, although he had no mo- 
tive whilst observing them, but the gratification of his own cu- 
riosity. Nfuther the battle nor the siege suggested to him a 
single thought, at the time, beyond their political bearings, or 
their military character ; but both came back upon him in all 
their " circumstance,^^ as well as " pomp," when he became 
^« the prisoner of the Lord." Then he sang : — 

*' 'Tis strange to me, that they that love to tell 
Things done of old, yea, and that do excel 
Their equals in Hislriology, 
Speak not of Mansotjl's warsj but let them lio 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 29 

Dead, like old fables, or such worthless things, 

That to ihe Reader no advantage brings ; 

When men (let iliem make what they will their own) 

Till they know this, are to themselves unknown. — 

I saw the Prince's armed men come down 

By troops, by thousands, to besiege the town ; 

I saw the Captains ; heard the Trumpets sound ; 

And how his forces covered all the ground. 

Yea, how they set themselves in battle 'ray, 

I shall remember to my dying day. 

I saw the Colours waving in the wind ; 

I saw the Mounts cast up against the town. 

And how the Slings were placed to beat it down ; 

I heard the Stones fly lohizziJig by my ears, 

(What's longer kept in mind, than got in fears?) 

I heard them fall, and saw what work they made, 

And how old Mars did cover with his shade." 

Holy War. 



30 LIFEOFBUNYAN 



CHAPTER III. 

bunyan's marriage. 

His moral reformation, such as it was at first, began with 
his marriage. This interesting fact has been too baldly told 
hitherto. There was more information to be obtained than 
the bare fact, that his " career of vice received a considerable 
check, in consequence of his marriage." — Scotfs Life. 

Bad as Bunyan was, he had still some friends at Elstow, 
or in Bedford. This appears from the sketch of his Life in 
the British Museum. " The few friends he had, thought that 
changing his condition to the married state might reform him, 
and therefore urged him to it as a seasonable and comfortable 
advantage. But the difficult thing was, that his poverty, and 
irregular course of life, made it very difficult for him to get a 
wife suitable to his inclination : and because none of the rich 
would yield to his solicitations, he found himself constrained 
to marry one without any fortune. 

" She was very virtuous, loving, and conformably obedient 
and obliging ; having been born of good, honest, and godly 
parents, who had instructed her, as well as they were able, in 
the ways of truth and saving knowledge. Her husband going 
on at the old rate, she endeavoured to make him see his wicked 
ways, and laid before his eyes the vanity of sin, and the danger 
that attended its wages — ^being no less than death, and that 
not temporal, but eternal death : and having two or three 
books left her, which, it seems, was all, or the greatest part 
of her dowry, she frequently enticed him to read in them, and 
apply the use of them to the reforming his manners and 
saving his soul." — P. 15. 

This, as we shall see, may be safely taken for fact, although 
the author, in the next page, mis-states the time of Bunyan's 
enlistment, which he places afte?' the marriage. He mistakes, 
however, more than dates. He assigns, as Bunyan's reason 
for enlisting, the want of work to " support himself and his 
small family" during " the unnatural civil wars." He adds, 
however, his own refutation, although unawares ; for he places 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. ^1 

him at the siege of Leicester in 1645 ; and then, we know, he 
was only seventeen years of age. Besides, he himself says ex- 
pressly, " Presently after this, I changed nay condition into a 
married state." He does not mean, however, presently after 
the siege; but after quitting the army, which he seems to have 
done soon. Dr. Southey says, that Bunyan was probably 
not nineteen when he married. This conclusion is just, al- 
though not warranted by the premises it is drawn from. " He 
married presently after his substitute had been killed at the 
siege of Leicester," the Doctor says. The conclusion from 
this would be, " probably, therefore, when he was only seven- 
teen f^ for he was born in 1628, and the siege occurred June 
17th, 1645. 

But, whatever the interval was, between his discharge and 
his marriage, it was during that interval he made the friends 
who planned and urged his marriage. And on his return from 
the army, Bunyan was likely to gain friends, although he re- 
turned home unimproved in character. He had seen the won- 
ders of Naseby, and the recapture of Leicester ; and, if he fol- 
lowed Fairfax to Taunton, he had encamped at Stonehenge 
by the way, and thus seen the mysterious temple of Druidism, 
(Rushworth) — scenes which would not be lost upon him. His 
bold and vivid imagination was sure to be fired by them, and 
his fluency enabled him to depict them. We have seen that he 
both observed well when in the army, and remembered well 
afterwards. It is, therefore, no conjecture, that the soldier of 
even this single campaign would be welcome at Bedford. The 
royal cause had few friends there : the parliamentary had many. 
Thus Bunyan would soon be in request, even amongst men 
who had formerly shunned his company. Curiosity, at a time 
of high excitement, can easily invent for conscience an excuse 
for getting information from any quarter, on a favourite sub- 
ject. 

Besides, Bunyan's signal escape at the siege would draw 
upon him the special notice of godly men then. They were 
close students of Providence, and firm believers in that sove- 
reignty of grace which occasionally arrests some of the most 
reckless. It is, therefore, highly probable, that when the 
young Blasphemer returned unhurt, some of the aged Believ- 
ers in Bedford would feel deeply interested in him, under the 
hope that God had some wise and gracious end in view, for 
thus wonderfully sparing such a rebel. And thus, between 
what God had done for him, and what Bunyan had seen and 



32 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

could say of the campaign, a new class of men were very 
likely to seek his company, when he resumed his craft. 

It is on these grounds, I feel warranted to adopt the oldest 
version of the origin of Bunyan's marriage ; " the few friends 
he had, thought that changing to the married state might re- 
form him ; and therefore urged him to it as a seasonable ad- 
vantage." If this reasoning be valid, he was not, even in his 
worst state, a cruel or unamiable man. He was boisterous, 
and perhaps turbulent ; but not harsh, nor vindictive. Had 
he been so, no decent woman could have been tempted to 
marry him ; for he had literally nothing in the world but th6 
tools of his craft. In like manner, had he been a sensualist, 
his friends could not have induced " a very virtuous woman, 
born of good, honest, godly parents," to have him. There 
must, therefore, notwithstanding all his faults, have been some- 
thing loveable about him. The very fact, that they had not 
so much between them " as a dish or a spoon," proves that he 
must have had some endearing quality. It proves, too, I 
readily grant, that she had but little prudence, even if she mar- 
ried him for the express purpose of mending him. 

That this was her purpose, is evident. Bunyan himself 
says, " My mercy was, to light upon a wife whose father was 
counted godly. She would be often telling of me what a godly 
man her father was, and how he would correct and reprove 
vice, both in his house and among his neighbours ; and what 
a strict and holy life he lived in his days, both in words and 
deeds." 

Bunyan's second wife was certainly a heroine, well deserv- 
ing, as we shall see, a comparison with Lady Russel, or with 
the wife of Grotius : but it required as much, if not more he- 
roism, although of another kind, to attempt the conversion of 
the Tinker, as to plead the cause of the Prisoner. And this 
was done so wisely, by showing him what he should be, in vivid 
pictures of what her father had been, that 1 must, in spite of 
the lack of both " dish and spoon " betwixt them, withdraw my 
charge of imprudence from her memory. Dr. Southey says, 
" There was no imprudence in this early marriage :" and I 
will believe him, although not for the first reason he assigns, 
that " Bunyan had a trade that he could trust ;" but for the 
second (putting my own sense upon the words), that " she had 
been trained up in the way she should go." She went the 
right way to work, in trying to reform her husband. An im- 
prudent woman would have reproved him ; but Mrs. Bunyan 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 33 

led him to realize how her father would have called him over 
the coals, had he been alive. Bunyan was just the man to 
realize this ; and it was only what he would have expected 
from a Puritan. It was not, however, what he would have 
brooked at that time from his wife. She had both the good 
sense, and the good taste, to perceive this ; and, therefore, in- 
stead of upbraiding her husband, praised her father, until Bun- 
yan saw, as in a glass, the contrast between them. I will not 
say, that she was a " believing wife " at this time ; but she 
certainly pursued a wiser plan of reclaiming an ungodly hus- 
band, than some believing wives do. Accordingly, her " chaste 
conversation, coupled with fear," had a winning influence upon 
him. His oldest Biographer says, " She frequently enticed 
and persuaded him to read " the books left her by her father, 
and " to apply them to himself." 

These books were only two, " The Plain Man's Pathway to 
Heaven," and "The Practice of Piety." It was, however, to 
" the relation " (and Bunyan evidently meant by that, what his 
Vf'i^Q related concerning her fatker's."holy life") as much as 
to the books, that he ascribed his first desires to amend at all. 
His own account of the matter is, " In these two books, I 
would sometimes read with her ; wherein I also found some 
things that were somewhat pleasing to me ; but all this while 
I met with no conviction." He then states what she often told 
him about her father, and adds, " Wherefore these books, with 
the relation, though they did not reach my heart, to awaken it 
about my sad and sinful state, yet they did beget within me 
some desires to reform my vicious life, and to fall in very ea~ 
gerly with the religion of the times." 

What these desires led to will be seen in the next chapter. 
In the meantime, it is evident, that to Mrs. Bunyan must be 
traced, under God, Bunyan's first steps in the path of duty. 
She, not the books, won him to reflection. Indeed, but for her, 
he would not have read the books ; yea, could not have read 
them. Hence, his oldest biographer says, " To the voice of 
his wife he hearkened, and by that means recovered his read- 
ing, which, not minding before, he had almost lost." This is 
no exaggeration : he himself says, " To my shame, I confess, 
I did soon lose that little I learnt, — even almost utterly, — and 
that long before the Lord did work his gracious work of con- 
version upon my soul." 

Thus his wife had to make him herjJMpfZ, as if he had been 
a child : a triumph which none but a wife, and that a wife 



34 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

combining prudence with sweetness, could have achieved over 
a ringleader of sports and impiety. True, Bunyan would be 
an apt scholar, and soon recover his lost learning ; but she 
also must have been " apt to teach." The difficulty was to 
keep him within doors after his work was done, and to draw 
him to her side with a book in his hand, whilst the roisterers 
on the village green were playing at trap, and his own bat 
and ball lying dry in the chimney-corner. All this was 
" tempting fruit" to him. Her voice must, therefore, have 
sounded sweeter than even the bells of Elstow, and her smile 
been brighter than the laugh of the merry-makers, whenever 
she kept him at home to read. 

I dwell, I confess, upon her influence, with a fondness bor- 
dering on extravagance. I do not feel, however, that I am 
exaggerating, in ascribing so much to its instrumentality. He 
himself calls it a " mercy," and says, " Until I came into the 
marriage state, I was the very ringleader of all the youth that 
kept me company, in all manner of vice and ungodliness." 
Her character, however, will come out more fully, as we trace 
the progress of the reformation of his character, in the next 
two chapters. And it is worth bringing out ; for although 
she was incapable of directing his inquiries, or solving his 
difficulties, when he entangled himself amongst the thorns and 
briars of unanswerable questions, she bore with silent meek- 
ness all the wayward moods of his wounded spirit, and kept his 
home a sanctuary, where he could weep unseen. 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 35 



CHAPTER IV 

bunyan's first reformation. 

It was some reformation in his case even to go to church at 
all on the Sabbath. By the influence of his wife, and her 
father's books and memory, he fell in eagerly with the religion 
of the times. His own account of this change is equally mi- 
nute and graphic. " I went," he says, " to church twice a 
day, and that with the foremost ; and there I would very de- 
voutly both say and sing as others did, yet retained my wicked 
life. But withal, I was so overrun with the spirit of supersti- 
tion, that I adored, and that with great devotion, even all 
things belonging to the church ; the high place (pulpit), priest, 
clerk, vestment, service, and what else ; counting all things 
holy, that were therein contained ; and especially the priest 
and clerk most happy, and without doubt greatly blessed, 
because they were the servants of God, as I then thought, and 
were principal in his temple, to do his work therein. 

" This conceit grew so strong in a little time upon my spi- 
rit, that had I but seen a priest (though never so debauched 
and sordid in his life), I should feel my spirit fall under him, 
reverence him, and knit to him. Yea, I thought, for the love 
I did bear unto them (supposing them the ministers of God), I 
could have laid down at their feet, and have been trampled 
upon by them ; their name, their garb and work, did so intox- 
icate and bewitch me." 

Dr. Southey says of this, "Bunyan describes himself as 
having a most superstitious veneration " for the servants and 
service of the church ; and very properly adds, " The service, 
it must be remembered, was not the Liturgy of the Church of 
England, but the Directory of the victorious Puritans, substi- 
tuted for it." — Southey^s Bunyan. 

Now, I have no objection to this distinction. I even think 
the Directory ^^ meager,'''' when compared with the Liturgy. 
What, however, is the design of this contrast here ? Does 
the meagerness of the Directory account for Bunyan's gross 
superstition ? Would the Liturgy have prevented " most 
superstitious reverence," for either priest, service, garb, or 



S6 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

what else ? If it would then, it does not now. Its very excel- 
lencies — and I think them glories — win, from wiser men than 
Bunyan then was, veneration for priests who utter nothing 
evangelical but the liturgy. It is easy to laugh at Bunyan's 
veneration fur the clerk ; but veneration for Archbishop Laud 
is far more laughable, and superstitious too, if Bishop Hall's 
opinion of him was just, or Hume's honest. I have much 
sympathy for Laud on the scaffold : his dying prayer, as given 
by Rushworth, I love more than I can express. Its opening 
petitions breathe a penitential faith of the highest order, be- 
cause of the humblest character. But Laud on the scaffold, 
and Laud on his own throne or behind the King's throne, is 
not the same person. His life was a curse to the Church, 
whatever ornament his death became. They are more super- 
stitious than Bunyan, who canonize either Laud or Charles. 

It was whilst this superstitious fit lasted, that Bunyan con- 
sulted his father about the Jews. They, like the gypsies, had 
come out of Egypt originally ; and as tinkers and gypsies 
were often identified, he fondly hoped that there might be some 
connexion between the two races. " The Israelites," he says, 
" were once the peculiar people of God : if I were one of them, 
thought I, my soul must needs be happy. I found a great 
longing to be resolved about this question ; but could not tell 
how I should." He asked his father, and he told him, " No, 
we were not." He then fell in spirit, as to the hopes of that. 
The fact seems to be, that he was unhappy in his own mind ; 
but still wishing for an easier way to heaven, than he had 
found church-going to be, easy as he made that duty by sport 
afterwards. He wanted to be one of the "pecw/mr people," 
that he might have nothing peculiar to do, as he thought. So 
think many, who conclude their own election from less re- 
semblance to the elect, than what subsists between Jews and 
gypsies. 

« But all this while," he says, " I was not sensible of the 
danger and evil of sin. I was kept from considering, that 
sin would damn me, what religion soever I followed, unless 
I was found in Christ. Nay, I never thought of Him, nor 
whether there was such a one or no." 

What must the Directory have been, it may be said, see- 
ing it left him thus ignorant of the Saviour ? Very inferior, 
I grant, to the Liturgy, except when filled up by the prayers 
of eminently devotional men ; I have, however, known of not 
a few instances of similar ignorance, under the Liturgy. The 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 37 

sober experimental fact is, that the prayers rarely teach the 
ignorant the way of salvation, however much they edify the 
pious. Wherever the Pulpit contradicts the Desk, the pray- 
ers soon become a dead letter. This is a solemn^ as well as a 
sober fact; for if any thing human could counteract bad 
preaching, the Liturgy would do so ; but it is itself counter- 
acted wherever the Gospel is not preached. 

Whatever else Bunyan's " parson" was, he seems to have 
been a Puritan, in reference to the Sabbath. It was well for 
Bunyan he was so. A sermon against amusements on that 
day, made him feel what he never felt before — guilty before 
God. " One day," he says, "amongst all the sermons our par- 
son made, his subject was, to treat of the Sabbath-day, and of 
the evil of breaking that, either with labour, sports or other- 
wise. Now I was, notwithstanding my religion, one that 
took much delight in all manner of vice ; and especially that 
was the day I did solace myself therewith. Wherefore I fell 
in my conscience under this sermon ; thinking and believing 
that he made that sermon on purpose to show me my evil doing. 
And at that time I felt what guilt was, though never before, 
that I can remember : but then I was, for the present, greatly 
loaden therewith, and so went home when the sermon was 
ended, with a great burthen upon my spirit. 

" This for that instant, did benumb the sinews of my best de- 
lights, and did embitter my former pleasures to me. But hold 
— it lasted not ! for before I had well dined, the trouble began 
to go off my mind, and my heart returned to its old course. 
O, how glad was I, that this trouble was gone from me, and 
that the fire was put out, that I might sin again without con- 
trol ! Wherefore, when I had satisfied nature with my food, 
I shook the sermon out of my mind, and to my old custom of 
sports and gaming I returned with great delight." 

Dr. Southey says, " It is remarkable to find a married man 
engaged in games which are now only practised by boys." 
This seems to imply that Bunyan was singular, in thus dese- 
crating the Sabbath. Would he had been so ! But he was not. 
Married men, and greybeards, as well as boys, then acted up 
to the letter and the spirit of the Book of Sports. Besides, 
what else was to be expected from Bunyan ? He was no Pu- 
ritan, whatever his Minister may have been. If he was any 
thing, he was now a high-Church bigot, according to the ca- 
valier style of Churchmanship ; saying or singing any thing 
within the Church, and doing as he liked when he came out. 
4 



38 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

So far the Doctor's remark is inexplicable. It is preceded^ 
however, by the following fling at the Puritans : " Notwith- 
standing the outcry which they have raised against what is 
called The Book of Sports, they found it necessary to tolerate 
such recreations on the Sabbath." This is an unfortunate re- 
mark, in connexion with a sermon against such sports, which 
had set onflre the conscience of Bunyan. The sermon which 
did that could not have been very tolerant to Sunday recrea- 
tions. The preacher may have been obliged to idnJc at such 
things, from inability to enforce the law against them ; but 
this was not tolerating them. 

Bunyan's dinner did not quench the fire which the sermon 
had kindled. Dr. Southey says well, " The dinner sat easy 
upon him ; the sermon did not." Bunyan says better, " But 
the same day, as I was in the midst of a game of Cat, and hav* 
ing struck it one blow from the hole, — just as I was about to 
strike it a second time, a voice did suddenly dart from Heaven 
into my soul, which said, ' Wilt thou leave thy sins and go to 
heaven, or have thy sins and go to hell V At this, I was put 
into an exceeding maze. Wherefore, leaving my Cat on the 
ground,! looked up to heaven, and was as if I had, with the eyes 
of my understanding, seen the Lord Jesus looking down upon 
me, as being very hotly displeased with me ; and as if he did 
severely threaten me with some grievous punishment for these 
and other ungodly practices." 

At this point, as might be expected, Bunyan's biographers 
differ. Ivimey lets the vision alone. Mons. Suard tells it 
with a true French sneer. Dr. Southey says, " The voice 
Bunyan believed to be from Heaven ; and it may be inferred 
from his relation, that though he was sensible the vision was 
only seen with the mind's eye, hedeemed it not the less real." 
J. A. St. John says, " The passage translated into common 
English, means no more than that the thought arose in his 
mind ; and being an incitement to good, must, he supposed, pro- 
ceed from Heaven." Scott of Aston Sandford says, " The con- 
sciousness of his wicked course of life, accompanied with the 
recollection of the truths he had read, suddenly meeting in his 
mind, thus produced a violent alarm, and made such an impres- 
sion on his imagination, that he seemed to have heard these 
words, and to have seen Christ frowning and menacing him. 
But we must not suppose that there was any miracle wrought ; 
nor could there be any occasion for a new revelation to sug* 
gest or enforce so scriptural a warning." 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 39 



This last explanation of the matter is the best, so far as all 
but Bunyan himself is concerned. It is also the <rwe explana- 
tion of the vision, so far as means were concerned. 1 his was 
not the way, however, in which Bunyan explamedit to himselt. 
He saw more in it, than the jimc^ion of recollected truth and 
conscience. He says, indeed, that it was darted into his soul; 
conceived in his inind ; seen with the eyes of his understand, 
inff : and special metaphysical pleading might make a great 
deal of these words, to prove that he reckoned the whole matter 
only a very vivid creation of the mind itself. Be it remember- 
ed, however, that bv the time Bunyan wrote his own account 
of it, no man knew better than he did what vivid imagmmgs 
were Many thoughts had been virtually realities ; and many 
ideas sensations, to him. But no familiarity he ever acquired 
with mental phenomena, led him to strip this signal providence 
of the supernatural entirely. He was too wise tocall it a mi- 
racle, but he was too pious to exclude the hand of God from it : 
that hand, indeed, cannot be excluded from the event, by any 
philosophy which deserves the name. . ,, , 

I have called Scott's explanation both the best and the true 
one, because Scott does not intend to exclude the agency ot the 
Holy Spirit, although he mentions only the meeting ot irutu 
and Conscience. It is only justice to Thomas Scott, to say 
this. He was, I both grant and regret, too much atraid ot 
what he calls "those impressions, which constitute so lai^e a 
portion of Bunyan's religious experience." He thought it 
"not advisable to recapitulate" them. Dr. Southey judged 
more wisely, although less kindly towards the agency ot the 
Holy Spirit, when he said, "Bunyan's character would be im- 
perfectly understood, and could not be justly appreciated, it 
this part of his history were kept out of sight." He therefore 
brings them fully into sight ; but, as a " Stage of burning en- 
thusiasm, not less terrible than that of the Pilgrim in the Valley 
of the Shadow of Death." Thus whilst Scott's object was to 
guard the doctrine of Divine influence from being confounded 
with visionary impulses, Southey's object was to fasten 
the charge of "rampant fanaticism" upon Puritamsm, as 
well as to make Bunyan "admired as he ought to be admi- 
red " "The enthusiasm," he says, " was brought on by the 
circumstances of an age in which hypocrisy was ft;equent and 
fanaticism rampant throughout the land.;' --Southey s Lije. 
There is only too much truth in this picture of the preva- 
lence of hypocrisy and fanaticism, so far as certain sects or 
rather cliques of the day, are concerned : but there is no truth 



40 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

in the supposition, that Bunyan's enthusiasm was " brought 
on" by the circumstances of the age. No man had hated, or 
kept more out of the way of religious professors, than he had 
done. Up to the very day of his arrest upon the village green, 
he had read no books of a fanatical order, and seems to have 
taken no counsel but from his wife ; and she had been " train- 
ed up," Dr. S. himself says, " in the way she should go." 
Thus, neither Hypocrites nor Fanatics had anything to do 
with Bunyan's first mighty impulse. Even the sermon which 
preceded it seems to have been merely practical. No former 
sermon of" our Parson's," as Bunyan calls him, had produced 
any effect of the kind. He says, that he had never thought 
of Christ before, nor felt what guilt was ; no slight proof, that 
the preacher was not very puritanical. I will suppose, how- 
ever, that the Sermon against Sabbath-breaking proclaimed 
Christ to be « the Lord of the Sabbath ;" and even threatened 
transgression with his hot displeasure ; yea, that it closed by 
the appeal " Wilt thou leave thy sins and go to heaven, or 
have thy sins and go to hell ?" 

I am even inclined to think, that it must have run somewhat 
in this strain. Still, not even all this concession will account 
for the effect produced on Bunyan, when his recollections of 
the appeal assumed the aspect of a vision. Then it plunged 
him into despair ; whereas the Sermon, although it had made 
him feel guilty before God, had not excited the fear of perish- 
ing. Its immediate effect was confined to embittering his old 
pleasures ; and that bitterness was soon at an end. Accord- 
ingly, after dinner, he went with « great delight" to his old 
sports. He was not, therefore, doing much violence to his 
understanding or conscience, in returning to play. Accord- 
ingly, he struck the Jirst blow at Cat, and that in " the midst of 
the game," without fear or compunction. It was not until he 
was about to strike the second, that he was startled. This 
deserves notice. Had he left his house as he entered it, greatly 
burdened and embittered in spirit, the first stroke would have 
been the most difficult. Conscience, had not its " fire been put 
out," would have flashed up at the first outrage offered to it ; 
and his heart, had it not become « glad," would have made 
his hand tremble. He was not, therefore, doing violence to 
his better judgment or feelings, when he began to play. He 
went to Cat with great delight, and struck the first blow with 
perfect freedom ; but the second he could not strike. He 
left his cat on the ground, and looked up to heaven. 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 41 

Now, although this arrest may be accounted for, by a happy 
meeting of Truth and Conscience, that effectual meeting itself 
remains unaccounted for. They had met before dinner, with- 
out producing fear ; but now tormenting fear accompanied a 
sense of guilt. Why ? Undoubtedly, because the spirit of all 
grace brought Truth and Conscience into closer union. It 
was His striving with the man, that arrested the man. He 
convinced him of " sin and judgment," although not of 
" righteousness" also, then : and the conviction falling upon a 
mind highly imaginative, and but recently excited, was wrought 
by fancy, into visible forms and audible sounds. 

Those who have been afraid to say this, were deterred by 
what Dr. Southey well calls " the insane reasoning" which 
followed. It was insane to conclude, as Bunyan did, that he 
must be damned ; that it was now too late to look after hea- 
ven ; that Christ would not pardon his sins. This reasoning, 
however, was not founded upon the visionary form which the 
conviction assumed. The first words which darted into his 
soul, should have prevented this despair ; for they were, " Wilt 
thou leave thy sins and go to Heaven ?" This " good thought" 
was worthy of the Holy Spirit to suggest, and directly calcu- 
lated to awaken a good hope through grace. And even the 
succeeding words, " or wilt thou have thy sins and go to 
Hell ?" awful as they are, presented an alternative. 

There is, therefore, no reason for being ashamed or afraid 
to ascribe to the Holy Spirit the conviction, as it flashed into 
Bunyan's mind. In its original form, it was in the words of 
both truth and soberness. It was Bunyan's ovm spirit that 
flashed it back into the firmament, in visionary and terrific 
forms ; and thus neither with these, nor with the insane rea- 
sonings which followed them, had the Spirit of God anything 
to do. 

It is by overlooking this distinction, that many good men 
are very shy to acknowledge, or even to recognize, the pre- 
sence of the Holy Spirit in this remarkable event. There is, 
however, no occasion for such timidity. What followed the 
divine conviction, was all a human perversion of both its char^ 
acter and design. 

The insane reasoning will prove this. Bunyan says, " I 

had no sooner conceived thus (the anger of Christ,) in my 

mind, but, suddenly, this conclusion was fastened on my mind 

(for the former hint did set my sins again before my face,) 

4* 



42 LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 

that I had been a great and grievous sinner, and that it was 
now too late for me to look after heaven ; for Christ would 
not forgive me, nor pardon my transgressions ; then I fell 
to musing on this also ; — and whilst I was thinking of it, and 
fearing it should be so, I felt my heart sink in despair ; con- 
cluding it was too late." — Southey^s Life.'^ 

There was nothing to warrant this conclusion, even in the 
supposed frowns or threatenings of Christ. " Some griev- 
ous punishment," was all that they suggested to Bunyan, 
whilst he gazed on these vivid embodyings of his own fears. 
It was not until he began to muse on them, that he plunged 
into despair. They were all quite over and gone before he 
began to muse. His rash conclusions were, I grant, very 
rapid : not, however, unnaturally so. Such thunder usually 
follows hard after swift lightning, and rolls both longer and 
farther than the flash indicates. Penrose understood the rapid 
movements of Despair, when he sang : — ^ 

" Drawn by her pencil, the Creator stands, 

(His beams of Mercy thrown aside) 
With thunder arming his uplifted hands, 

And hurhng Vengeance wide. 
Hope, at the sight aghast, affrighted flies, 

And dashed on Terror's rocks, Faith's last dependence dies." 

Accordingly, when Bunyan mused until he despaired, he 
soon became desperate. " Concluding it was too late, I re- 
solved to go on in sin : for, thought I, if the case be thus, my 
state is surely miserable ; miserable if I leave my sins ; (see 
how he forgets the first words suggested to him by the Holy 
Spirit !) and but miserable if I follow them." Now he per- 
verts the divine conviction ! What, I ask, could be expected 
but that this process of reasoning should end in the horrid con- 
clusion, " I can but be damned ; and if I must be so, I had as 
good be damned for many sins, as for few." Awful as this is, 
it is not very uncommon. I have known many instances of 
it. Bunyan himself, although the recollection of it shocked 
him to the very end of his life, had ceased to wonder at it be- 
fore he recorded it. " I am very confident," he says, " that 
this temptation of the Devil is more usual among poor 
creatures than many are aware of; even to overrun the spirits 
with a scurvy and seired frame of heart, and a benumbing of 
conscience ; which frame he stilly and slyly supplieth with 
such despair, that, though not much guilt attendeth such, yet 
they have continually a secret conclusion within them, that 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 43 

there is no hope for them ; for they have loved sins, therefore 
after them they will go." He confirms his opinion by quoting 
the following texts : — " But thou saidst, There is no Hope : 
no, for I have loved strangers, and after them I will go." 
" And they said. There is no Hope ; but we will walk every 
one after our own devices, and we will ever)'" one do the ima- 
gination of his evil heart." — Jer. ii. 25; xviii. 12. 

It is worthy of notice, that Bunyan, although horror-struck 
by the vision, had pride or self-command enough to keep 
silence all the time. He was unable to hold his Cat ; but he 
held his peace. Not a word betrayed the cause of his sudden 
stop from playing. " I stood,'''' he says, " in the midst of my 
play before all my companions ; but yet I told them nothing." 
They wondered, no doubt, to see their ringleader drop his Cat, 
and stand stock-still. He saw that wonder in their looks, and 
was too proud to confess his secret. He could not look so 
bold or calm as they did ; but he did not own himself crest- 
fallen. He could not brook the idea of seeming a coward or 
craven, before those who had always seen him the master- 
spirit of their revels and blasphemy. His expression, " I told 
them nothing," tells us a great deal ! 

It was some such considerations, I have no doubt, that kept 
him silent. He saw at a glance, that his fame would be gone 
forever, and his leadership lost, if he breathed his fears or his 
forebodings upon the village green. He knew that he would 
be twitted and taunted by the only companions he had, for 
allowing himself to be frightened by "our Parson," in the 
morning. All this had more weight with him at the time, 
than he himself suspected when he wrote the emphatic words, 
" I told them nothing." It was that they might discover 
nothing, and suspect but little, that he rushed " desperately to 
his sport again." 

This, also, is no uncommon thing, even amongst young 
men who have far more literary and social resources to fall 
back upon than the Tinker had ; and much stronger family 
reasons for quitting the chair of the scorner and the haunts 
of the wild. Many " keep it up," as they phrase it, because 
they would be laughed at if they let it down. Oh how — 

•* The world's dread laugh " 

can bind young men to the chariot-wheels of some dashing 
Leader of vice or vanity, although he himself is just as much 



44 LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 

bound to liis chariot by the same laugh, as they are to its 
wheels ! They are afraid of his jibes, and he is afraid of their 
scorn : and thus both keep it up, although both are often sick 
of each other. I knew, in early life, an old man, the oracle 
of a village, who seemed inspired with new life from day to 
day, as he spread Infidelity among raw lads. I wondered at 
his apparent hilarity. After a time I heard that he was 
dying. I went to see him. He had swallowed poison, and 
was cursing both himself and his dupes for their folly. 
It was an awful scene ! I succeeded however, in saving 
his life, by forcing him to swallow tar-water. He said, 
that he would unsay all his old maxims before his young dupes. 
But he never did. I had to tell them the tale of horror. He 
recovered, only to drink and speculate. They soon rallied 
their spirits, to laugh at the tar-water. 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 45 



CHAPTER V. 

bunyan's second reformation. 

Bunyan's first reformation, as we have seen, did not amount 
to much, nor last long. He turned over a new leaf, and but 
one leaf; and that he soon turned back to its old place ; for 
he seems neither to have gone to Church again, nor to have 
read with his wife, for some time, after he determined " to go 
on in sinning." 

This will not be wondered at, when the form of that deter- 
mination is read. We have seen that he returned desperate- 
ly to his sport on the green, when his pride rallied his spirits. 
This he did, he says, " under a kind of despair," which pos- 
sessed his soul with a persuasion, that he " could never attain 
to othei' comfort, than that which sinning could furnish. This 
would have been an ensnaring temptation to any man. To 
Bunyan it was an inflaming one. It set on fire the whole 
course of his nature. " Heaven was gone," he says ; " where- 
fore I found within me a great desire to take my flll of sin : 
still studying what sin was yet to be committed, that I might 
taste the sweetness of it. And I made as much haste as I 
could to fill my belly with its delicacies, lest I should die before 
I had my desires : — for that I greatly feared." 

This is as explicit as it is awful. And yet Dr. Sou they 
says, that swearing was the only actual sin to which he was 
addicted !" Bunyan himself says of the preceding confession, 
" In these things, I protest before God, I lie not ; neither do I 
frame this sort of speech. These were really, strongly, and 
with all my heart, my desires. The good Lord, whose mercy 
is unsearchable, forgive my transgressions ! Now, therefore, 
I went on in sin with great greediness of mind ; still grudging 
that I could not be satisfied with it as I would." 

Now, although Bunyan often calls vanities, vices ; and 
follies sins ; and sinful desires, transgressions ; both his sense 
and Saxon are too good to allow such a confession to be inter- 
preted of swearing only. I know that it does not mean sen- 



46 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

suality, nor habitual drunkenness ; but I am quite sure that it 
means more than swearing, or even than blaspheming. It 
means theft also : petty, it may be ; but still theft. Hence, 
when his conscience became tender, he says, " I durst not take 
a pin or stick, though but so big as a straw ; for my conscience 
now was sore, and would smart at every touch." In like man- 
ner, one of the first compliments paid to him on his reforma- 
tion, by his neighbours, was, that " now he had become a tru- 
ly honest man." Thus he had not been distinguished for 
honesty before. Tinker-like, he had no doubt, taken so many 
stakes from the hedges, and stray fouls from the farms, that 
neither the farmers nor their wives would have countersigned 
the assertion of Dr. Southey, that swearing was his only 
actual sin." 

But, whatever the confession included, Bunyan says, " This 
did continue with me about a month or more ; but one day, as 
I was standing at a neighbour's shop-window, cursing and 
swearing, and playing the mad-man after my wonted manner, 
there sat within, the woman of the house, and heard me ; who, 
though she was a loose ungodly wretch''^ (in this all the old 
accounts of her agree), " yet protested, I swore and cursed at 
that most fearful rate, that she was made to tremble to hear 
me : and told me farther, that I was the ungodliest fellow for 
swearing that she ever heard in all her life ; and that I, by 
thus doing, was enough to spoil all the youth in the whole 
town, if they came but in my company." 

Bunyan little expected such a reproof from such a quarter. 
" It wrought more with him," says one of his early Annalists, 
" than many that had been given him before by the sober and 
godly." His first Biographer says, " I remember he declared, 
that the first impulse upon his mind, was the sharp rebuke of a 
woman who was reputed to be of slender virtue, who hearing | 
him garnish his discourses, as he termed it, with oaths at the 
beginning and end, severely reproved him, and admonished his 
companions to shun his conversation, or he would spoil them 
and make them as bad as himself." Bunyan himself says, 
" At this reproof, I was silenced, and put to secret shame ; I 
and that too, as I thought, before the God of Heaven." 

I have recorded this minutely, because it had a better effect 
upon him than his supposed vision, and because from that hour 
his second reformation began. He stood by the shop window, 
as he had done on the play-ground, silent, indeed, but " hanging 
down his head," and musing more wisely, although more 



LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 47 

openly rebuked. " While I stood there," he says, with touch- 
ing simplicity, "- 1 wished with all my heart that I might be a 
little child again, that my father might learn me to speak with- 
out this wicked way of swearing : for, thought I, I am so 
much accustomed to it, that it is in vain for me to think of a 
reformation : for, I thoaght, that could never be." 

He was now touching again the very rock upon which his 
former convictions made shipwreck. He remembered this 
well, and felt it deeply when he came to record it in his life. 
Hence he says, " How it came to pass / know not ; but I did, 
from this time forward, leave off' my swearing, that it was a 
great wonder to myself to observe it. And, whereas before, 
I knew not how to speak unless I put an oath before and ano- 
ther behind, to make the words have authority; now I could 
speak better without it, and with more pleasantness than ever 
I could before." 

Thus it is not so useless for the bad to reprove the worst, as the 
Proverbs, " Satan rebuking sin," and " The kettle calling the 
pot black," imply. The latter proverb originated most like- 
ly, amongst the Tinkers, and had been often used, perhaps, by 
Bunyan himself, to turn the laugh against ordinary reprov- 
ers ; but now he could not employ it, although it was never 
more applicable. The fact is, very unexpected reproofs do 
their work upon the conscience, before the memory can send 
an answer into the lips. Perkins of Cambridge, (an able Pu- 
ritan divine afterwards) was shamed out of his drunken habits 
at once, by overhearing a poor woman say to her crying child, 
" Hold your tongue, or I will give you to drunken Perkins yon- 
der." Thus, whilst it is all very well to say with David, 
"Let the righteous smite me," there is more occasion for 
shame when the wicked may repeat the blow, without injustice. 
Then it is pitiful to say, " Look at home," or to talk against 
"Satan reproving sin." Reproof for a specific sin or incon- 
sistency, must be richly deserved, before the wicked would 
think of administerinix it. 

How long Banyan's reformation was confined to the aban- 
donment of one bad habit, cannot now be ascertained with 
certainty. It seems, however, to have been so for a conside- 
rable length of time. Hence he says, " All this while, I knew 
not Jesus Christ, neither did leave my sports and plays." 
Thus he was not carried far by his second convictions, nor 
influenced by any regard to the love or the authority of Christ. 
This is what he means by not knowing Jesus Christ. Accord- 



48 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

ingly, he adds, " I was ignorant of the corruptions of my 
nature, and of the want and worth of Christ to save us." 

Soon after this, happily, Bunyan was led to take great 
delight in reading the Scriptures. This, as might be expect- 
ed, enlarged his viev/s of personal reformation, and increas- 
ed his improvement. It had, however, from its random char- 
acter, another effect ; it laid the foundation for most of the 
sad mistakes which embarrassed and embittered his spirit, 
when he became deeply concerned about his salvation. This 
is a startling, remark, I am aware. Indeed I intend it to be 
so. In no other way could the reader be prepared for the 
strange fancies, or the haunting fears, which mark the early 
religious experience of Bunyan. These spring chiefly, how- 
ever, from reading first, and spiritualizing in his own allegori- 
cal vein, as he went on, the historical parts and ceremonial 
precepts of the Old Testament. He thus began with things 
which had no direct bearing upon his eternal interests, or his 
moral improvement. Even the Apocrypha was more interest- 
ing to him than the Gospels ; and Paul's Epistles, he could not 
''''away with them'''' at all. 

This fact has been too little noticed hitherto, or brought in 
too late to be useful. Bunyan's narrative of it is in his best 
style. " I fell into company with one poor man that made 
profession of religion, who, as I then thought, did talk pleasant- 
ly of the Scriptures, and of the matter of religion. Where- 
fore, falling into some love and liking to what he said, I be- 
took me to my bible, and began to take pleasure in reading : 
but especially in the historical part thereof; for, as for Paul's 
Epistles, and such like Scriptures, I could not away with them, 
being as yet ignorant either of the corruptions of my nature, 
or of the want and worth of Jesus Christ to save us." Such 
was his reading ; partial and irregular. His new counsellor, 
also was a dangerous man ; for although not then, what he 
soon afterwards became, " a most devilish Ranter," and eventu- 
ally an Atheist, he must have been a mere talker, and a thorough 
speculator, however " pleasantly" he could speak about the 
Scriptures and the matter of religion : for men who soon come 
to " deny that there is a God, angel, or spirit," never had any 
fixed principles, even if they were not, as this man showed 
himself to be, licentious at the heart's core. I do not now, 
however, enter upon his history any farther than just to show 
that Bunyan fell into bad hands, when this masked libertine 
became his " intimate companion." He, indeed, neither knew 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 49 

nor suspected hhn to be rotten at the core then. In fact, he 
became acquainted with him when he was least dangerous; 
for the man was then trying a moral reUgion, for once in his 
life, after having run the gauntlet through all the ranks of 
speculation. He came soon, however, " to laugh at all so- 
briety" and decency; and, therefore, it is not unfair nor rash 
to assume that from the first, he had a strong disposition to 
^'^vrest the Scriptures." 

These facts of the case will keep the reader on the watch 
for their influence upon Bunyan's mental habits. The Bible, 
however, even as he read it then, had a decided influence upon 
his moral habits. " I fell," he says, " to some outward refor- 
mation, and did set the Commandments before me, for my 
way to Heaven ; which commandments I also did strive to 
keep ; and, as I thought, did keep them pretty well sometimes. 
And then I should have comfort. Yet now and then, I should 
break one, and so afflict my conscience. But then, I should 
repent, and say I was sorry for li, and promise God to do bet- 
ter; and there got help again; for, then, I thought I pleased 
God as li'eU as any man in England." 

This self-complacency, whilst it sprang from his own un- 
renewed heart, was nourished by public applause. He was 
now a new man, although not "a new creature;" and as his 
neighbours were ignorant of this Scriptural distinction, " they 
did marvel much," he says, " to see such great and famous al- 
teration in my life and manners. They did take me to be a 
very godly man— a new and religious man." He himself admits 
also, that the alteration was famous: "and indeed so it was," he 
says, " though I knew not (then) Christ, nor grace, nor faith, nor 
hope ; for as I have well since seen, had I died then, my state 
had been most fearful. But, I say, my neighbours were 
amazed at this my great conversion from prodigious profane- 
ness, to something like a moral life. And truly so they well 
might; for this my conversion w^as as great, as for Tom of 
Bedlam to become a sober man. Now, therefore, they began 
to praise, to commend, and speak well of me, both to my face 
and behind my back. Now I was, they said, become godly ; 
now I was become a right honest man. And O, when I un- 
derstood tJiose were their words and opinions of me, it pleased 
ms mighty well." 

It is impossible not to imagine, that his worthy M?i/e brought 
the best of these " words and opinions " home to him, from 
both church and market. Public respect was a new thing to 
5 



50 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

the Tinker; and as he enjoyed it mightily, she would natural- 
ly keep upon the outlook for whatever compliments were most 
likely to gratify him ; for it would never occur to her, that she 
was feeding his vanity, or ministering to his self-righteousness. 
The only thing she saw was, her husband becoming like her fa- 
ther ; and the only thing she felt was, that the example she had 
so often held up for imitation, was now taking effect. I can see 
her now, hanging over his chair with rapture; and can hear 
her say, " O, John, dear, that is so like what father was." Who 
does not feel that there is more fact than fancy in this vision 
of Bunyan's fire-side, when Bunyan was " talking bravely" 
about religion ? 

I do not forget that Bunyan himself felt differently, when 
he wrote the history of his Pharisaism. Any thing, however, 
is better than blackguardism, especially in a husband ; and 
that wife is more nice than wise, who would not hail and help 
on the moral improvement of her husband, even if she knew 
that his motives and his spirit were legal — for they would not 
become evangelical by finding fault with them — nor by calling 
what he means for good, by ill names. The Cross of Christ 
can never be endeared or commended to unconscious Pharisees, 
by unmasking abstract Pharisaism. 

Bunyan was, however, although he knew it not at the time, 
a thorough Pharisee. Accordingly, when he reviewed this 
period of his life, he said, " As yet I was nothing but a poor 
painted hypocrite; yet I loved to be talked of, as one that 
was truly godly. I wrs proud of my godliness; and, indeed, 
I did all I could, either to be seen of, or to be well spoken of 
by men. And thus I continued for about a twelvemonth, or 
more." 

During that year, his conscience began to question the law- 
fulness of his favourite amusements — bell-ringing and dancino-. 
And, in regard to the former, his conscience was not at all too 
squeamish ; for the ringing he had loved occurred chiefly on 
Sabbath; and that not to summon the parish to worship, but 
to serenade them after worship. It is also not unlikely, that 
the dancing he was so fond of, followed the merry peal of the 
Sabbath-evening bells. It is not easy, otherwise, to account 
for the following struggles he had to make before he could give 
either up ; unless, indeed we suppose that the company in the 
steeple-tower, or on the green of Elstow, were no longer suited 
to his taste. " Now you must know," he says, " that before 
this, I had taken much delight in ringing ; but my conscience 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 51 

beginning to be tender, I thought such practice but vain ; and 
therefore forced myself to leave it ; yet my mind hankered: 
wherefore I would go to the steeple house (it was a distinct 
house from the Church), and look on, though I durst not ring. 

" But I thought this did not become religion neither; yet I 
forced myself, and would look on still. But quickly after I 
began to think, How if one of the Bells should fall ? Then I 
chose to stand under a main-beam, that lay overthwart the 
steeple from side to side ; thinking, there I might stand sure. 
But then, I thought again, should the Bell fall with a swing, 
it must first hit the wall, and then rebounding upon me, might 
kill me, for all this beam. This made me stand in the steeple 
door. And now, I thought, I am safe enough ; for if the Bell 
should now fall, I can slip out behind these thick walls, and 
so be preserved notwithstanding. 

" So after this I would yet go and hear them ring ; but 
would not go farther than the steeple door. But then it came 
into my head. How if the steeple itself should fall ? And this 
thought did continually so shake my mind, that I durst not 
stand at the steeple door any longer ; but was forced to flee, 
for fear the steeple should fall upon my head. 

" Another thing was, my dancing. I was full a year be- 
fore I could quite leave that. But, all this while, when I 
thought I had kept this or that commandment, or did, by word 
or deed, any thing I thought was good, I had great peace of 
conscience ; and would think with myself, God cannot choose 
but be now pleased with me ! Yea, to relate this in my own 
way, I thought no man in England could please God better 
than I ! But, poor wretch as I was, I was all this while igno- 
rant of Jesus Christ, and going about to establish my own 
righteousness : and had perished therein, had not God, in mer- 
cy, showed me my state by nature." 

All this is in Bunyan's " own way" in more senses than he 
attached to the expression. He meant only his own style; 
and that he had a right to call his own. It was wholly his 
own : at least, it smacks only of Moses and the evangelists. 
Who, therefore, can regret that he had read so few other 
books? The best contemporary Works would have spoiled 
both his language and his taste. It is, however, his reasonings 
and imaginings in the bell-tower of Elstow, that deserve the 
chief attention here. They throw more light upon his tempe- 
rament, than even his reformation itself: and I am gathering 
such lights, even more carefully than I record it, (much as I 



52 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

feel interested in every step of it,) because we shall soon want 
strong lights, in order to follow him through the devious and 
capricious mazes of his spiritual history, or what Dr. Southey 
calls, "the hot and cold fits of a spiritual Ague." These fits 
would have been less mysterious to the eloquent biographer, 
had he studied the hot and cold fits of Bunyan, produced by 
the question of bell-ringing. That called into natural and full 
play, the original elements and tendencies of Bunyan's mind. 
The man who could, and did, go through such a process of 
hope and fear, observation and conjecture, experiment and 
suspicion, calculation and hesitation, in the case of an imprO'- 
hable danger, and in spite of all the massive architecture of 
the Tower staring him in the face, is just the kind of man 
who may be expected (for he is sure) to examine every thing 
which interests him ; not only on all sides, but to turn it in- 
side out, and outside in; and after having scrutinized all its 
parts, in all lights, he is almost sure to take up with the dark- 
est view of the subject, so far as he himself is concerned in its 
bearings. Bunyan was not, indeed, a slothful man, to invent 
Lions in the way ; nor a nervous man, to suspect Lions : but 
he was a moody and mighty Magician, to conjure them up 
anywhere, and at all times, and in terrific forms. For let it 
ever be remembered, that it was the same powers of mind, alJ 
unknown to himself as talents, and all unbalanced by know- 
ledge or example, that played the fool and the madman alter- 
nately with scraps of Scripture in early life, which afterwards 
invented the Pilgrim's Progress, with the tact of Shakspeare, 
the wisdom of Plato, and the precision of Locke. The powers 
which created that work, were sure to run wild, whilst they 
knew not their own strength, and had no guide, and nothing 
delightful enough to satisfy their cravings when they concen- 
trated their exercise. 

But I forbear : I was not made for philosophizing. What 
I mean by these hints will be obvious in the next Chapter,, 
however they may cloud the end of this one. 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 53 



CHAPTER VI. 

bunyan's conversion. 

Hitherto, Bunyan was, at best, only a " brisk talker" about 
religion, as he calls himself ; and that only as it bore upon 
opinion and a few practical duties. Nothing he knew of re- 
ligion had humbled him at all, either before God or man ; and 
all that he practised only made him proud before both. Like 
many who turn over a new leaf in morals, he never looked 
at the old leaf, which was still uppermost in his heart. 

In his case, this can hardly be wondered at. He had met 
with none who knew " the plague of their own hearts ;" and 
his reading had not turned at all upon the necessity of a new 
heart, or of a right spirit, before God. His wife, also, although 
well disposed, was not well informed on this subject. He 
remembered all this when his attention was drawn to the state 
of his heart ; and gratefuUy^'recorded the means of it. Hence 
he says, " Upon a day, the good providence of God called me 
to Bedford, to work at my calling : and in one of the streets 
of that town (would we knew wMcli street !) I came where 
there were three or four women sitting at a door in the sun, 
talking about the things of God. And being now willing to 
hear what they said, I drew near, to hear their discourse — for 
I was now a brisk talker of myself in the matters of religion 
— but I may say, I heard, but understood not ; for they were 
far above, out of my reach. 

" Their talk was about a new birth — the work of God in 
their hearts ; as also, how they were convinced of their mis- 
erable state by nature. They talked how God had visited 
their souls with his love in the Lord Jesus, and with what 
Promises they had been refreshed, comforted, and supported 
against the temptations of the devil." 

All this was new to Bunyan ; and especially that part of it 
which related to the devil. ' Of him he had never thought be- 
fore, as a Tempter to anything but wickedness or crime : — as 
a Tempter to despair, distrust, impatience, or unbelief, he had 
5* 



54 LIFEOFBUNYAN. ' 

never heard or dreamt. Accordingly, he paid unusual atten- 
tion to what the poor women said on this subject. " More- 
over," he says, " they reasoned of the suggestions and tempta- 
tions of Satan, in particular ; and told to each other, by what 
means they had been afflicted, and how they were borne up 
under his assaults. They also discoursed of their own wretch- 
edness of heart, and of their unbelief; and did contemn, 
slight, and abhor their own righteousness as filthy, and in- 
sufficient to do them any good." 

All this perplexed him, and compelled him to feel that these 
new things were strange things to him. And yet, he seems to 
have asked for no explanation of any of them ; not even of 
Satan's temptations, which were an utter mystery to him. 
This is the more remarkable, as he evidently had a fair oppor- 
tunity ; for the women were communicative, and he was 
either sitting or standing close by them. This is certain. 
Accordingly, when they had finished their conversation, " I 
left them," he says, " and went about my employment again." 
Thus, he did not overhear them, as he was mending kettles ; 
but was in their company. He might, therefore, have asked 
questions; for the speakers evidently wished to draw him out. 
They were talking at him, although not in a wrong spirit. 
They knew their 7nan ; and gladly set themselves, like Pris- 
cilla with Apollos, to teach him, " the way of the Lord more 
perfectly." 

This is the true reason of their conduct. They were not 
religious gossips, who would have told their experience to any 
one. They were " holy women," who knew what Bunyan 
had been ; and what he had become by the reproof of a bad 
w^oman ; and what he was likely to turn out if left in the 
hands of his canting companion, the masked Ranter, who 
could talk " pleasantly" about religion. They knew this, and 
took care that he should not have all the talk to himself. 

I am not ascribing to these poor women more knowledge 
of Bunyan and his companion, nor more zeal for Bunyan's 
welfare, than they really possessed : for they were accredited 
Members of the Baptist Church in Bedford ; which was then 
too young, too small, and too pure, for any of its members to 
overlook or neglect any returning Prodigal, however far off 
from his Father's house ; or to mistake any wolf in sheep's 
clothing, however woolly. The honour of religion was too 
dear to the truly Godly of these times, for that. And this 
will be equally intelligible and credible, to all who know any 



LIFE OF BU NY AN. 55 

thing of the regular Dissenting Churches of that day, or of 
our own times. All spiritual Churches episcopize in this way. 
Bunyan did not know this at the time : perhaps he never sus- 
pected it afterwards, in his own case. But the poor women 
certainly talked of themselves, that they might teach him. 

How well they spoke of experimental religion, will be best 
seen from his own account. " Methought, they spake as if jo?/ 
did make them speak. They spake with such pleasantness of 
Scripture language, and with such appearance of grace in all 
they said, that they were to me, as if I had found a new 
world ; as if they were ' people that dwelt alone, and were not 
to be reckoned among their neighbours.' At this, I felt my 
own heart began to sliake, and mistrust my condition t» be 
naught : for I saw that in all my thoughts about religion and 
salvation, the new birth did never enter into my mind ; {Nu 
codemus-like !) neither knew I the comfort of the word and 
promise, nor the deceitfulness of my own wicked heart. As 
for secret thoughts, I took no notice of them ; neither did I 
understand what Satan's temptations were, nor how they 
were to be withstooa and resisted." 

The last part of this confession, although not the most inter- 
esting, had most to do afterwards with Bunyan's strange fears 
and fancies : and I mark it out, as another of those lights 
which we shall soon need, when he is " led into the wilderness 
to be tempted of the devil." He did not understand Satanic 
temptation when he first heard of it, nor when it began to 
harass his mind. The Enemy came in upon him " as a flood ;" 
but he saw only the flood itself, and not the Enemy who pour- 
ed it around and over him. 

His ignorance on this point, however, did not hinder his 
profiting by what he had heard about the religion of the 
heart. That arrested and humbled him. It followed him to 
his work like his shadow ; nor did he try to shake it off. " I 
left," he says, " but their talk and discourse went with me : 
also, my heart would tarry with them ; for I was greatly af- 
fected by their words ; both because by them I was convinced 
that I wanted the tokens of a truly godly man, and also, be- 
cause by them I was convinced of the happy and blessed con- 
dition of him that was such a one. Therefore, I would often 
make it my business to be going again and again into the com- 
pany of these poor people ; for I could not stay away. And 
the more I went among them, the more I did question my con- 
dition : and, £is I still remember, presently, I found two things 



56 LIFE OF BUN YAN. 

within me, at which I did sometimes marvel : the one was, a 
very great softness and tenderness of heart, which caused me 
to fall under conviction of what, by Scripture, they asserted ; 
and the other was, a great bending in my mind to a continual 
meditating on it, and on all other good things, which at any 
time I heard or read of. 

" By these things, my mind was now so turned, that it 
lay like a horse-leech at the vein ; still crying out, ' Give, 
Give;' and was so fixed on eternity, and on the things of the 
kingdom of heaven (that is, so far as I knew ; though as yet, 
God knows, I knew but little), that neither pleasures, nor 
profits, nor persuasions, nor threats, could loose it, or make it 
let go its hold. And, though I speak it with shame, yet it is 
in very deed, a certain truth, that it would have been as diffi- 
cult for me to have taken my mind from heaven to earth, as 1 
have found it often since, to get it again from earth to 
heaven." 

Bunyan himself, marvelled, as he well might, at this child- 
like and angel-like tur7i of spirit ; " especially," as he says, 
" considering what a blind, ignorant, sordid, and ungodly 
wretch, but just before I was." It hardly requires spiritu- 
al discernment, in order to see beauty in this change. Mere 
Philosophy, either moral or mental, must admire it. It is 
indeed, the Lion become a lamb ! How Mrs. Bunyan must 
have enjoyed it ! Her husband was now more gentle and 
humble than her father seems to have been. Even those who 
attach no importance to the religion of the heart, must wonder 
at the change of the Tinker's heart ; it was so sudden and 
great, and yet so simple withal. His spirit softened like fur- 
rows under spring showers ; and, like them, soon sent forth 
" the tender blade." And all this was produced, not by 
visions or dreams, but by words which dropped as the rain, 
and distilled as the dew, from the lips of simple-hearted women, 
who used no direct persuasion. Christians see, of course, the 
hand of God in the effect : and even a mere philosopher must 
confess, that he never sees the same effect produced by the 
most eloquent maxims or appeals of his ethics, although he 
tries their force on more cultivated minds. True ; there was 
latent genius in the Tinker, to work upon. What then ? 
Neither the Tinker himself, nor his Teachers knew of it. 
They had never heard of genius. It was not the less there, I 
grant. Where was it, however, in the women, who sat 
" Knitting in the sun ?'^ 



lifeofbunyan;. 57 

They had not minds of Banyan's order : and, yet the truths 
of the Bible had the same sweet influence upon them. Besides, 
what is philosophy worth, as a Reformer of the world, if it 
require genius as the soil for its seed to root or ripen in ? 

One of the first-fruits of Bunyan's conversion was, a tender 
concern for those whom his former example had misled or 
hardened. Having found, therefore, in his own case, bow 
good is a word spoken in season, and in a kind spirit, he 
began to try the experiment upon others. He was, however, 
very unsuccessful, in the first instance : because, perhaps, he 
began too soon ; or before his new sjnrit was as much known 
as his new character. " There was a young man in our 
town," he says, " to whom my heart before was knit, more 
than to any other : but he being a most wicked creature, for 
cursing, and swearing, and whoring, I now shook him off, 
and forsook his company : but about a quarter of a year after 
I had left him, I met him in a certain lane, and asked him how 
he did. He, after his old swearing and mad way, answered 
he was well. * But, Harry,' said I, ' why do you curse and 
swear thus ? What will become of you if you die in this con- 
dition V He answered me in a great chafe, ' What would the 
Devil do for company, if it were not for such as I am V " 

This is, perhaps — reckless and horrible as it is — as fair a 
specimen of the spirit of the ungodly Cavaliers and Rois- 
terers of that day, as could be selected. Many Roundheads 
were as great rogues ; but they did not thus glory in their 
shame, nor laugh at the wrath to come. It is not, however, 
for the sake of illustrating this feature of the Times, that I 
quote the fact. I would not have quoted it, had it not been the 
anecdote which revealed to me the fact, that Bunyan him- 
self is the speaker in the Life of Badman, under the name of 
Wiseman. The anecdote occurs in that work, exactly as it 
stands here, so far as the point of it is concerned. In other 
respects, the only difference is, the word " hiiff^^ instead 
of " chafe." On the margin of the old Editions there is, 
also, this note of Bunyan's : — " The desperate words of one 
H. S., who once was my companion." 

This was a sore disappointment to Bunyan. He says, " I 
make mention of him to my shame. That young man was my 
play-fellow, when I was solacing myself in my sins. Young 
Badman was as like him as an egg is like an egg ; and so far 
as I could ever gather, he lived and died as Mr. Badman did." 
This was not Bunyan's only trial at the time. He not only 



58 LIFE OF BUNYAN 

strove in vain to reclaim others, but had to resist some who 
attempted to corrupt himself. " About this time," he says, « I 
met with some ranters' books that were put forth by some 
of our countrymen ; which books were also in high esteem by 
several old professors." One of these professors was the 
" pleasant Talker about the matter of religion," whom I have 
already branded as a masked libertine. He now threw off the 
mask, and "gave himself up to all manner of filthiness, 
especially to uncleanness." Bunyan adds of him, "About 
this time he became a most devilish Ranter." 

It will be seen at once from this, that the sect were every 
thing but what the modern Ranters are. The ranting of the 
latter is mere violence of language and gesticulation, in 
preaching and praying. In all other respects, they are, I 
believe, exemplary and orthodox : whereas, the old Ranters 
were equally profligate and heterodox. I do not choose to 
detail their creed or their character. They were Familists ; 
and whoever wishes to know their character, will find its 
original in the Nicholaitan's, and its impersonation in " that 
woman Jezebel," mentioned in the epistles to the seven 
Churches of Asia. I know, however, that it is not justice to 
Bunyan, to give no account of the books of the Ranters, see- 
ing he signalized his prudence by the manner in which he 
treated them. But he can afford to have less than his due in 
this matter : whereas, it is not every one who can read Error 
with safety ; even when the antidote is stronger than the 
poison. Many of Doddridge's students verified this fact, 
although all the error they read was speculative, and contra- 
dicted equally by his own devotional character, and evangeli- 
cal preaching. 

Nothing exhibits the child-like disposition of Bunyan more 
now, than the recoil of his spirit from Antinomianism. He 
read both the books and the men that advocated the system ; 
but he shrunk with holy jealousy from the former, and with 
loathing disgust from the latter. He could not answer their 
arguments ; but he prayed against their influence. " I was 
not able," he says, '* to make any judgment about them : 
wherefore, as I read them, and thought upon them, seeing my- 
self unable to judge, I would betake myself to hearty prayer in 
this manner : "O Lord, I am a fool, and not able to know 
the truth from error. Lord, leave me not to my own blind- 
ness, either to approve of or condemn this doctrine. If it be 
of God, let me not despise it ; if it be of the devil, let me not 



t 



LIFE OF BUNYAN, 59 

embrace it. Lord, I lay my soul in this matter only at thy 
foot ; let me not be deceived, 1 humbly beseech thee.'" 

We feel instinctively, that such prayer was sure to be 
answered by God. '• The meek will he guide in judgment." 
" If any man do his will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether 
it be of God." Bunyan verified these promises at the time ; 
and afterwards set to his seal, that God is true. " Blessed be 
God," he says, " who put it into my heart to cry to him, to 
be kept and directed ; still distrusting my own wisdom. For 
I have seen since, even the effects of that prayer, in his preserv- 
ing me, not only from Ranting errors, but from those also that 
have sprung up since." He did more, however, than pray for 
preservation. He also shook off his old companion the Ran- 
ter. That man had gone on from bad to worse, until he laugh- 
ed at all truth and duty. " Wherefore," says Bunyan, "abomi- 
nating these cursed principles, I left his company forthwith, 
and became to him as great a stranger, as I had been before a 
familiar." No wonder ; the last words of the wretch to 
Bunyan, accompanied with loud laughter at his own wicked- 
ness, were, " that he had gone through all religions, and could 
never hit upon the right till now ; and that all professors would 
turn in a little time to the ways of the Ranters." On this, 
they parted, to meet no more, forever. 

Bunyan's danger was not over, however, when he shook off 
this Viper from his hand. He was still a travelling Tinker, 
and could not often choose his company, nor change the sub- 
ject of conversation, when he was from home. He was thus 
thrown amongst Ranters occasionally, by his Craft. He also 
found, here and there in the county, men whom he had for- 
merly known as " strict in religion, drawn away" to Antino- 
mianism. But still, the pans and kettles of both required 
mending as usual, and he could not afford to refuse a job. He 
had thus to listen to the " sounding brass" of Antinomians, 
whilst solderinir their culinary brass. " They would tell me," 
he says, " of their ways, and condemn me as legal and dark : 
pretending that those only had attained to perfection, that 
could do what they would and not sin." 

This " bestial herd," as Dr. Southey justly calls them, 
were not produced however, as he unjustly insinuates, by 
"Baxter, and other erring, though good men," who marvelled 
" at mischief which never would have been effected, if they 
had not mainly assisted in it." True ; Baxter said when he 
saw it, " We intended not to dig down the banks, or pull up 



^0 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

the hedge, and lay all waste and common, when we desired the 
Prelates' t^a-anny might cease." Baxter, however, never 
regretted the downfall of that tyranny itself, nor ever thought 
that such Prelacy would have preserved either the morals or 
the maxims of the Reformation. Besides, if the Puritans are 
to be held accountable for the monstrocities of the Common- 
wealth, the Prelatists must answer for the wider-spread enor- 
mities of the Restoration. Bunyan saw both, and spared nei- 
ther, as we shall see by and by. / 

He felt deeply, and has told frankly, the seductive power of 
Anti-nomianism, as it then appeared to his passions. " Oh 
these temptations /" he exclaims ; " I being but a young man, 
and my nature in its prime/' It deserves special notice here, 
that he ascribed to a hope that God had designed him ^^for 
better things,^^ the strength of that Godly fear, by which he 
was kept from embracing the " cursed principles" of the 
Ranters. 

He verified, also, at this time, in his own experience, the 
truth of David's answer to the question, " Wherewithal shall 
a young man cleanse his way 1 By taking heed thereto 
according to thy Word." Never did young or old man take 
better heed to this rule than Bunyan did, whether travelling 
or at home. "The Bible," he says, " was preciows to me in 
those da3^s. I began, methought, to look into the Bible with 
new eyes ; and read as I never did before \ and especially the 
epistles of the apostle St. Paul were sv/eet and pleasant to me. 
And, indeed, I was never out of the Bible, either by reading 
or meditation : still crying out to God, that I might know the 
truth and way to heaven and glory." 

Now his reading became impartial, and for the right pur- 
pose. And yet, even at this time, that cast of his mind, which 
I have already hinted at, showed itself. Both the marvel- 
lous and the mystical, had peculiar charms to him. He even 
preferred the abstract to the simple and plain, except where 
practical duty was concerned. Hence, instead of taking his 
views of faith from the definitions of Paul or John, he took 
them first from Paul's catalogue of the miraculous or extraor- 
dinary gifts of the Spirit ; where faith has evidently and cer- 
tainly the same reference to the Miraculous, which Tongues or 
Prophesy had. 1 Coj\ xii. 9. 

There is also, in connexion with his peculiar mind, some- 
thing suspicious in the very way he speaks of searching the 
Scriptures. Instead of saying, he met with such a passage, 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. [61 

he says, he hit upon it ; and he evidently regarded it as a 
" happy hit." A mind of this order, without a guide, is sure 
to miss, and that widely at times. Accordingl y, Bunyan*s 
first notions of faith were equally vague and visionary. 

« As I went on and read," he says, " I hit upon that passage, 
* To one is given by the Spirit, the word of wisdom, to another 
the word of knowledge, by the same Spirit ; and to another 
faith,' &c. On this I mused, and could not tell what to do : 
especially this word faith put me to it ! for I could not help 
it ; but sometimes must question, whether I had faith or no. 
But I was loath to conclude I had no faith ; for if I do so, 
thought I, then I shall count myself a very castaway indeed." 
This was wisely resolved ; but unwisely reasoned. " No," 
said I to myself, « though I am convinced that I am an igno- 
rant sot, and that I want those blessed gifts of knowledge and 
understanding that other people have, yet, at a venture, I will 
conclude, I am not altogether faithless, though I know not what 
faith is." He made this venture, because he was "loath to 
fall quite into despair." Thus he never thought of asking 
himself, what he believed. That was too plain a question for 
his taste ; too simple a path for his ket. Accordingly, he saw 
no faith in his cordial belief of the truth, although he loved 
the truth so far as he knew it. There was no 'perverseness of 
heart in this mistake. It sprang from sheer ignorance, and 
the fear of taking up with a mere nominal faith. He saw that 
those who " conclude themselves in a faithless state, have nei- 
ther rest nor quiet in their souls ;" and therefore he was afraid 
to meet the question fairl}^ in his own case, lest he should be 
driven into despair : for he saw " for certain," that if he had 
not faith, he was " sure to perish for ever." This, he says, 
made him " afraid to see his want of faith," although he strongly 
suspected he had none. He could not rest long, however, upon 
what he well calls " the feZm^ conclusion'' that he was "not 
altogether faithless," even although ignorant of what faith is. 
His\cute understanding shrank from this absurdity with 
shame, even whilst his aching heart clung to it with fondness. 
" I could not rest content," he says, " until I did now come to 
some certain knowledge, whether I had faith or no : this al- 
ways running in my mind, But what if you want faith indeed ? 
How can you tell you have faith ? So that, though I endea- 
voured at first to look over (to overlook) the business of faith, 
yet in a little time, I better considering the matter, was willing 
to put myself upon trial, whether I had faith or no." The 

6 



62 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

honesty of this resolution is as delightful as its imprudence is 
glari;}g. In after years, however, he himself thought only of 
its rashness. " Alas, poor wretch," he says of himself, " so 
ignorant and brutish was I, that I knew not (tiien) any more 
how to do it, than I know how to begin and accomplish that 
rare and curious piece of art which I never yet saw or con- 
sidered." 

This is his own preface to his own account of that trial of 
his faith, to which he was now about to subject himself. That 
account, therefore, ludicrous as it is, will not turn the laugh 
against him, except on the face of witlings : for he would 
have acted wisely, if he had only known how to do so. He 
himself claims credit for himself thus far; and says, "You 
must know that, as yet, I had not in this matter broken my mind 
to any one : only did hear and consider." Besides, he had 
no suspicion at the time, that Satan had anything to do with 
anything which was well meant in religion. What he says 
about the tempter, in the following story, is not what he thought 
during the temptation ; but his final judgment, when he knew 
better. " Being put to a •plunge,''^ he says, " the tempter came 
in with this delusion, that there was no way for me to know I 
had faith, but by trying to work some miracles ; urging those 
Scriptures that seem to look that way, for the enforcing and 
strengthening his temptation. Nay, one day, as I was between 
Elstow and Bedford, the temptation was hot upon me to try if 
I had faith, by doing some miracle ; which miracle was this ; 
I must say to the puddles that were in the horse-pads, Be dry ; 
and to the dry places. Be you puddles ! And truly, one time, 
I was going to say this, indeed. But just as I was about to 
speak, this thought came into my mind, — But go under yonder 
hedge, and pray first, that God would make you able. But 
when I had concluded to pray, this came hot upon me, — that 
if I prayed, and came again, and tried to do it, and yet did 
nothing notwithstanding ; then to be sure, I had no faith, but 
was a castaway, and lost. Nay, thought I, if it be so, I will 
not try yet, but will stay a little longer. So I continued at a 
great loss : for, thought I, if they only have faith, who could 
do such wonderful things, then, I concluded, that for the pre- 
sent I neither had it, nor for the time to come were ever likely 
to have it. Thus I was tossed betwixt the devil and my own 
ignorance ; and so perplexed, especially at some times, that I 
xjouid not tell what to do." 

There is a strange mixture of rashness and prudence in ali 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 63 

this, and a still stranger oversight of the character of the only 
believers he knew ; the poor women, whose experience he had 
heard and admired. They had said nothing about " miracles,'* 
or " wonderful things," even when they spoke as if joy did 
make them speak ; and he had no doubt of the genuineness of 
their faith. Yet, all this he forgot, or overlooked : another 
proof of the tendency of his mind to take up with the abstract^ 
rather than the obvious, in any subject which regarded him- 
self. Even this is not saying enough of his peculiarity. His 
mind fixed upon miracles as the test of faith, although he had 
never heard of such a test ; for with all the pretences and va- 
garies of his times, our own have been more rife with miracle- 
mongers. There were no Tongue- shops, even among Ohver's 
gifted cohorts. It remained for metropolitan Episcopalians, 
two centuries afterwards, to play the fool in this way, in a 
Scotch Kirk. I mention these things, merely in order to fix 
attention upon the capriciousness of Bunyan's modes of think- 
ing, even when he began to think for eternity. Then, from 
sheer dread of erring, he often argued " without rhyme or rea- 
son." Even his reveries, or day-dreams, were wiser than his 
deliberations. The former were vivid and fanciful : the latter 
were hot and morbid. 

One of the former has in it, what Dr. Southey calls, " the 
germ of the Pilgrim's Progress ;" and Conder, " the germinat- 
ing of that imagination which was afterwards to ripen into 
genitis.^^ Both critics arc right : but I quote it as the germ 
of that piety, which ripened into sound theology and the beau- 
ties of holiness ; because this was the light in which Bunyan 
himself viewed it, and his chief reason for telling it so well. 
It was this. " About this time, the state and happiness of 
these poor people at Bedford was thus, in a kind of a vision, 
presented to me. I saw as if they were on the sunny side of 
some high mountain, there refreshing themselves with the 
pleasant beams of the sun, while I was shivering and shrinking 
in the cold, afflicted with frost, snow and dark clouds ; Me- 
thought also, betwixt me and them, I saw a wall that did com- 
pass about this mountain : now through this wall my soul did 
greatly desire to pass ; concluding, that if I could, I would 
even go into the very midst of them, and there also comfort 
myself with the heat of their sun. 

" About this wall I bethought myself, to go again and again, 
still prying as I went, to see if I could find some way or pas - 



64 LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 

sage, by which I might enter therein ; but none could I find 
for some time : At the last, I saw, as it were, a narrow gap, 
like a little door-way in the wall, through which I attempted 
to pass : Now the passage being very strait and narrow, I 
made many efforts to get in, but all in vain, even until I was 
well nigh quite beat out, by striving to get in : at last, with 
great sideling, my shoulders, and my whole body got in : then 
I was exceedingly glad, went and sat down in the midst of 
them, and so was comforted with the light and heat of their 
sun. 

" Now this mountain and wall, &c, was thus made out to 
me : The mountain signified the church of the living God : 
the sun that shone thereon, the comfortable shining of his 
merciful face on tiiem that were therein ; the wall I thought 
was the word, that did make separation between the Christians 
and the world ; and the gap which was in the wall, I thought, 
was Jesus Christ, who is the way to God the Father. For 
Jesus said in his reply to Thomas, ' / am the way and the 
truth and the life, no man cometh to the Father but by me. Be- 
cause strait is the gate and nari'ow is the way which leadeth unto 
life, and few there be that find it.'' John xiv. ; Matt. vii. 14. 
But forasmuch as the passage was wonderful narrow, even so 
narrow that I could not with but great difficulty, enter in 
thereat, it showed me, that none could enter into life but those 
that were in downright earnest, and unless also they left that 
wicked world behind them ; for here was only room for body 
and soul, but not for body and soul and sin. 

" This resemblance abode upon my spirit many days ; all 
which time I saw myself in a forlorn and sad condition, but 
yet was provoked to a vehement hunger and a desire to be one 
of that number that did sit in the sunshine : Now also should 
r pray wherever I was ; whether at home or abroad, in house 
or field ; and would also often, with lifting up of heart, sing 
that of the fifty-first Psalm, ' O Lord, consider my disti'ess;'' for 
as yet I knew not where it was." 

It will not lessen the impression made by this " dream and 
the interpretation thereof," to notice how naturally it grew 
out of the real interview he had with the poor women in the 
street at Bedford. They were sitting " in the sun," when he 
first saw them ; and accordingly they appear in vision on the 
sunny side of a high mountain. The" wall" also, is just a 
material form of the ignorance and fear he felt, whilst listen, 
ing to them : and the " narrow gap," just the slight glimpse he 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 65 

had of part of their meaning. But whilst this is true, it is not 
all the truth. What must his mind have been, seeing it could 
thus throw into forms of power and glory, such simple and 
common. place realities ? And yet we shall "see greater things 
than these," from even smaller materials. 

Bunyan remembered this dream and its interpretation, when 
he wrote his " Solomon's Temple Spiritualized." Speaking 
there of the gate of the Porch of the Temple, which, although 
six cubits wide, was yet accounted too narrow, because of the 
cumber some men would carry with them, that pretend to be 
going to heaven, he exclaims, " Six cubits ! What is sixteen 
cubits, to him who would enter with all the world on his back? 
The young man in the Gospels, who made such a noise for 
heaven, might have gone in easy enough : for in six cubits 
there is room ; but, poor man, he was not for going in thither, 
unless he might carry his houses upon his back ; and so the 
gate was too strait." Bunyan had "put away childish things," 
and " become a man," when he wrote thus. We must, how- 
ever, review his childish things first, and make due allowances 
for them* 



66 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 



CHAPTER VII. 

bunyan's conflicts. 

He is a very unfeeling man, even if not a parent, who can 
witness without emotion or sympathy the sufferings of an in- 
fant. These are many and varied, even in the case of a 
healthy child. Hardly any of its faculties or functions deve- 
lop themselves without pain, and none of them rapidly. The 
strongest habe is thus but a tender plant for a long time. 
Nothing, therefore, is more unseemly, than to find fault with 
the screams of a mere infant, or to remain unmoved by its 
tears and wailing. If, however, he who can do so be an un- 
feeling man, he who could wish Infancy free from all its suf- 
ferings, is anything but a wise man. Mothers have, indeed, 
much to endure, and fathers something, from the succession 
of complaints incident to childhood ; but both would have to go 
through much more trouble, if their children acquired strength 
of body at once, or before they had mind enough to regulate 
the employment of bodily strength. In that case, their blow 
or their bite would be a more serious thing than their cries. 
And if they could talk and reason from the first, they would 
be more tiresome than even fretful ness makes them. 

It would be ludicrous as well as useless to illustrate the sup- 
position of a mature child. Absurd as it is, however, it is 
hardly more absurd than the expectation, that a recent con- 
vert should be wise, settled, or happy, in religion, all at once. 
The Apostles thought otherwise : and treated their converts 
as but " babes in Christ," at first. Christ himself thought 
otherwise, and provided for the weakness of his lambs, as well 
as for the wants of his sheep. He did not teach even his 
Apostles every thing at once ; but only as they could " bear '* 
from time to time. Accordingly, they thought and said many 
things, at first, which were both unwise and wayward ; rash 
and silly. Christ did not prevent this. He did not render it 
impossible, nor did he countenance it ; but he permitted it. 
The fact is, the Apostles needed as much to know themselves 
— their own hearts, tendencies, and dispositions — as His doc- 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 67 

trine. It was only as they knew themselves, that they could 
appreciate or improve it. And the case is not much altered 
yet. No convert talks nothing bat good sense at first. Every 
Christian has his childhood, during which he both thinks 
and says childish things, and gives way to childish hopes and 
fears. 

He is no Philosopher, who can laugh at this weakness. It 
is indeed weak to suspect the worst ; or to look chiefly at the 
dark side of appearances ; or to conclude that all is wrong or 
useless, because nothing is fully right or ripe at once. It is 
even not a little wayward to raise a but in the midst of the 
Promises, and especially to set either the severity or the 
sovereignty of God ''over all" his perfections, purposes, and 
plans ; seeing He has set his " tender Mercies over all his 
works." This sad reversing of the order of His " well ordered 
Covenant," by a disordered imagination, or by a doubtful 
mind, is a painful sight to a well informed man, and a puzzling, 
if not a repulsive sight, to a man who cares little about re- 
ligion. The former has no patience with such dark surmises, 
and the latter turns the suspicions and the fears of the timid 
into objections against religion itself. Both treat the case 
unfairly. It is a case of spiritual infancy, in general ; and 
often aggravated in its weakness, by ill health or low spirits. 
It is not, however, a bad thing for any man to go through 
some process and degree of mental anxiety, at his outset in 
religion. He would not be a better nor a wiser man, without 
it. Besides it is inevitable. Personal religion is more than 
a new line of moral conduct. It is that ; but it is also a new 
train of ideas, desires and motives. It is a new line of con- 
duct chosen for new reasons, and pursued for eternal results. 
The mind cannot, therefore, adjust itself at once, to so much 
that is new, noble, and solemn. It is thrown inevitably at 
first, into some confusion, as well as ferment, by the vastness 
and variety of eternal things. To wonder at this, is worse 
than foolish. Why ; any great change of temporal circum- 
stances, or even a transition from a small trade to a great 
one, will throw the mind into both ferment and confusion. 
But, who wonders at~this ? No one. All men would wonder 
at the man who could descend unmoved from the top to the 
bottom of the Ladder of life, and at the man who could ascend 
unmoved from the bottom to the top. Allowances are made 
for both, even if both are not a little at their wits' end ; the 
former by too much fear, and the latter by too much hope. I 



68 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

have seen more men at their wits' end by worldly embarrass- 
ments, than I ever saw by spiritual ; and few have been brought 
into wider contact than myself with the inmates of the cells 
and wards of Doubting Castle. Who has not seen men on 
'Change at their desks, as much confused, and agitated, and 
panic-struck, by the vicissitudes of Trade, as Bunyan was by 
the vicissitudes of religious iiope and fear? I do not plead nor 
apologize for all his hot or cold fits in religion ; but whilst 
both hot and cold fits are so common in Trade, I will not si- 
lently hear him called fool or fanatic. His mind just wrought 
at first amongst a crowd of new ideas and desires, as the minds 
of young and old Brokers and Merchants work amidst the 
stagnations or revolutions of the market. It will, therefore, be 
quite time enough for the world to fling gibes at the confusion 
and anguish of timid and tempted Christians, when our own 
Bankers and Brokers, Shipowners and Merchants, take panics 
and reports coolly. In like manner, it ought not to be a very 
amazing thing in a world where Returned Bills and Bad 
Debts make men sleepless for a time, if unanswered prayers, 
or unsuccessful struggles to " keep the heart right with God," 
create some wearisome nights and days to recent converts. 

Those who thus " live in glass houses should not be hasty 
in throwing stones" at others. Some of the stones thrown at 
melancholy and morbid Christians, rebound with tremendous 
force upon the victims of misfortune and treachery. Quite as 
many of them sink or rave under their calamities. Far more 
settle into melancholy, or rush to desperation, by worldly loss- 
es, than by religious mistakes or disappointments. Besides, 
if it be any objection against Religion, that some of its ill in- 
formed and raw recruits are very unhappy for a short time 
at their outset in the divine life, what should be said of Irre- 
ligion and Infidelity? Even their veterans die as fools or as 
maniacs. Voltaire, Hume, and Paine, raved and trembled far 
more at the close of their life, than Bunyan did at the com- 
mencement of his piety. Now although " two blacks do not 
make a white,^^ one black may be blacker than another. Ac- 
cordingly, the blackest list of mental sufferings, and hopeless 
sorrows, is in the world, not in the Church. It is " the sor- 
row of the world, that worketh death," madness, and melan- 
choly, upon a large scale. 

I do not wish to aggravate my reprisals, nor to retort with 
all the severity which facts would warrant. I readily grant, 
that the victims of worldly sorrow take wrong views of the 



LIFE OF BUN YAN. 69 

world, both when they sink and when they rave under its ca- 
lamities. He has not the heart of a Christian, who refuses to 
concede this. In hke manner, he has not the head of a Phi- 
losopher, who refuses or neglects to acknowledge, that all re- 
ligious despair, despondency, and extravagance, springs from 
wronoj views of Religion itself. 

Now, that mistakes should be made in Religion is, to say 
the least, not more surprising than that they are made in busi- 
ness, or in friendships, or in partnerships. Who wonders 
that either a very rash, or a very timid man, to whom busi- 
ness is a new thing, and the world unknown, should form un- 
wise connexions, or embark in plausible speculations, or be- 
come the dupe and victim of sharpers ? Nothing else is, or is 
to be, expected, when men ignorant of the world begin to act in 
it. Very few, however, are so ignorant of human nature, or 
of public business, when they begin active life, as the genera- 
lity are of the Gospel when they begin a godly life. Far fewer 
are brought up to the religion of the Bible, than to business. 
All the real knowledge of the generality, up to the time of their 
being drawn or driven to think seriously about eternal salva- 
tion, is, that they ought to hQ good, and to attend public wor- 
ship, and to say their prayers. There is but very little more 
than this in the creed of most : for their vague and vapid no- 
tions about the merits of Christ, amount neither to faith or 
knowledge. They are mere forms of sound words, and not 
often that. It is, therefore, not only not to be wondered at, but 
only what might be expected, that minds thus ill informed 
should be ill at ease, when they begin to discover in the Bible, 
that sin is an evil which only the Son of God could atone for ; 
that the heart is a stone which only the Spirit of God can soft- 
en ; that pardon and eternal life are blessings which good 
works can neither merit nor buy. This new world of ideas, 
is not likely to be a bright world o( feelings at first, to a man 
who never studied the worth or the wants of his soul. His 
mere consciousness of having neglected his soul for years, 
forces upon him the questions — Bat wiU God, or the Saviour, 
or the Sanctifier, show mercy to a soul upon which I bestowed 
no care ? Will they pardon or pity one who has so long tri- 
fled with both their Mercy and Justice ? May they not treat 
me as I have treated them ? If not, why not ? 

Now very few can answer these questions at first. The 
Gospel, indeed, contains explicit and delightful answers to 
them all : but nothing is less known than the Gospel, by the 



70 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

generality when they begin to care for their souls, Even those 
who know something of it as a scheme of salvation by grace 
and through faith, have little or no idea, at first, that believing 
it is faith. They usually mean by faith, something more diffi- 
cult, and less within their power, than even the best of good 
works. Instead, therefore, of its being a wonder that so many 
are frightened or confused, when thev begin to grapple in 
good earnest with the question of acceptance with God, the 
wonder is tiiat so few are gravelled by it, or that Bunyan is a 
rarity. 

Besides, were the Gospel well known to every one, no one 
knows himself well at first, in reference to religion. Now 
self-knowledge is just as much wanted as scriptural know- 
ledge : and as nothing can teach the former but Experience in 
any case, and bitter Experience in most cases, it is wisely or- 
dered that all shall suffer more or less, for a time, from fears 
and temptations. They thus learn (what neither Reason nor 
Conscience suggest) that their own hearts are not to be trust- 
ed, nor their own resolutions to be depended upon. They 
discover also (for it is a discovery) that they are quite capable 
of going into opinions and presumptions, which, if not checked 
by the healthful Spirit of truth, grace, and holiness, would land 
them in impiety or scepticism. It is, therefore, a good thing 
for any man to get a sight, by any means, of his own heart. 
No man would or could believe the extent of its alienation from 
God, without being left to feel it now and then. For as it is 
only sickness or danger, which can bring home to us a yracti- 
cal sense of our weakness and mortality, so it is only Experi- 
ence which can make us afraid of our own hearts, 

I have been led into these considerations by a remark of 
Bishop Butler's, which throws more light upon the infancy of 
Internal Religion, than the crucifioo he set up in the palace-cha- 
pel of Durham (from which the crucifix was first removed by 
an ancestor of my family) did on " The Importance of Exter- 
nal Religion :" — " If we suppose," he says in Analogy, (p. 
107) "a person brought into the world with both body and 
mind in maturity, as far as this is conceivable, he would plain- 
ly, at first, be as unqualified for the business of life as an Idiot. 
He would be in a manner distracted with astonishment, and ap- 
prehension, and curiosity, and suspense : nor can one guess 
how long it would be before he would be familiarized to himself 
and the objects about him, enough even to set himself to any- 
thing, It may be questioned too, whether the natural inform^,- 



LlPEOFBUNYAN. 71 

tion of his sight and hearing would be of any manner of use at 
all to him in acting, before experience. And it seems, that 
men would be strangely head-strong and self-willed, and dis- 
posed to exert themselves with an impetuosity which would ren- 
der society insupportable, and living in it impracticable, were 
it not for some acquired moderation and self-government, some 
aptitude and readiness in restraining themselves, and in con* 
cealing their sense of things. — In those respects, and probably 
in many more of which we have no particular notion, mankind 
is left by nature an unformed and unfinished creature, utterly 
deficient and unqualified, before the acquirement of knowledge, 
experience, and habits, for that mature state of life which was 
the end of his creation ; considering him as related only to this 
world." All this is equally true of mankind, in regard to re- 
ligion. 

I thus bespeak the candour of Philosophy, as well as of edu- 
cated Piety, on behalf of new-born Bunyan. I will neither 
conceal nor soften his freaks or fancies, his caprice or rash- 
ness : but I must treat them with tenderness and demand for 
him great allowances at this stage of his Christian life. 

Bunyan erred nearly as much when he ascribed all his dis- 
couragements and suspicions to the Tempter, as when he 
charged himself with the guilt of every temptation which haunt- 
ed him. This is hardly to be wondered at. He was ignorant 
of the devices of Satan, when they began to sift and shake him ; 
and he had suffered so much from them before it could be said 
of him as of Christ, "then the devil leaveth him, and an An- 
gel ministered unto him," that he naturally traced to the devil 
all the fears and doubts, as well as the distractions and blas- 
phemies, which had ever harassed his mind. He saw, when 
writing an account of them, that his dilemmas had had the 
same influence as his distractions, in beating him off from the 
foundation of Hope ; and therefore he ascribed both to the 
same cause. It is not necessary, however, that his Biogra- 
pher should do so. It has been too often done already by his 
Annalists. Besides ; there is much in his Experience not 
easily to be accounted for, even when Satanic agency is drawn 
upon for explanations. Such being the foct, I am not inclined 
to draw much upon that source, until nothing else will explain 
Bunyan's temptations. 

It is not meant by these remarks, to convey the idea that 
Satan had nothing to do with Bunyan's wild reasonings about 
faith, and election, and the length of the day of grace. All I 



72 LIFEOFBUNYAN* 

mean, is, that " no strange thing had befallen " him, when 
questions about ^^ secret things''^ drove him to his wits' end. 
Such questions are only too natural : without strong tempta- 
tion to enforce or suggest them. They might have occurred 
without Satan ; although, when once started, he struck in 
with them, or turned them into "fiery darts." That he did 
so, in this instance, cannot be doubted by any one who be- 
lieves in his agency : for it will be seen, that the questions 
soon go against the very <' grain of nature," as well as against 
Bunyan'sJ?«?we of desire. "I began," he says, " to find my 
soul assaulted with fresh doubts about my future happiness : 
especially with such as these ; Whether I was elected ? How 
if the day of grace be past ? By these two temptations, I was 
very much afflicted and disquieted : sometimes by one, and 
sometimes by the other of them." 

" And first, to speak of that about questioning my elec- 
tion : — I found at this time, that though I was in a jlame to 
find the way to Heaven and Glory, and though nothing could 
heat me off from this, yet this question did so offend and dis- 
courage me, that I was, (especially at some times,) as if the 
very strength of my body also, had been taken away by the 
force and power thereof. This Scripture did also seem to 
trample upon all my desires, — ' It is not of him that willeth, nor 
of him that runneth, but of God that showeth mercy.' With 
this Scripture, — I could not tell what to do ; for I evidently 
saw, that unless the great God, of his infinite grace, had vol- 
untarily chosen me to be a vessel of mercy, though I should 
desire and long, and labour until my heart did break, — no 
good cotild come of it. Therefore, this would stick with me: 
How can you tell that you are elected ? And, what if you 
should not (be so ?) How then ? 

" O Lord, thought I, — What if I should not, indeed ? It 
may be you are not (elected), said the Tempter. It may be 
so, indeed, said I. Why then, said Satan, you had as good 
leave off, and strive no farther ; for if, indeed, you should not 
be elected and chosen of God, there is no hope of your being 
saved ; for it is not of him that willeth, nor of him that run- 
neth, but of God that showeth mercy. 

" By these things I was driven to my wits' end ; not know- 
ing what to soy, nor how to answer the temptations. Indeed, 
I little thought that Satan had thus assaulted me : but that 
rather it was my own prudence^ thus to start the question. 
For that the Elect only obtained eternal life, that, I without 



LIFE OP BUNYAN. 73 

scruple, did heartily close with : but that myself was one of 
them ',— there lay the question ! Thus, therefore, for several 
days, I was greatly assaulted and perplexed ; and was often, 
when I have been walking, ready to sink where I went, with 
faintness in my mind." 

Thus although this question originated in a mistake of Bun- 
yan's, it was ripened into a temptation by Satan. In itself, it 
was not an unnatural question ; but it became absolutely Sa- 
tanic, when it prevailed over a very flame of holy and heaven- 
ly desire, and thus prostrated both a robust body and a mighty 
mind. I cannot, notwithstanding all my suspicions of the 
morbid cast of Bunyan's mind, exclude temptation here. 
There is less of it, indeed, than in some of his subsequent hor- 
rors ; but still enough to compel the exclamation, " An Enemy 
hath done this !" 

This is, certainly, a convenient, as well as a summary, mode 
of accounting for the overwhelming effects of such a ques- 
tion. It is, I grant, employing one mystery to explain 
another. Still, better do that, than do nothing. Satanic 
agency, however mysterious in itself, aud whatever difficul- 
ties it involves, is a revealed fact : whereas it is neither reveal- 
ed by God, nor ascertained by philosophy, that mind has a 
natural tendency to torture itself into despair with such ques- 
tions. It is inclined to tamper with them, and to indulge 
many suspicions and fears for the safety of what is dear, and 
about the success of what is important. We conjure up 
thousands of dark fancies, and can make ourselves feverish by 
dwelling upon imaginary accidents. But it is not natural to 
indulge the fear of perishing, nor yet to lay to heart the dan- 
ger of being lost forever. All the natural tendencies of the 
human mind lean the other way, and trifle or presume, until 
the power of Truth check them. When, therefore, that power 
set Bunyan " in Vi fame to find the way to Heaven and Glory," 
that flame took, of course, the guidance of liis voluntary 
thoughts. From whence, then, came the involuntary fears 
which prevailed against both volition and burning desire? 
He who says in answer to this question, — " from the mind 
itself," insinuates more against the Author of mind, than he 
who traces the overwhelming fears to the agency of Satan. 
For if the constitution of the mind incline it to a bye-play, 
which can defeat all its best and concentrated desires, even 
when their spring-tide flows upon the eternal channe's of 
self-love, and in a heavenward direction, then are we more 
7 



74 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

perilled by this mental bye-play, than by all the power of 
Satan. He is an Enemy without ; of whom we are apprised 
and warned : but this is an enemy within ; of whom we have 
no notice. We are told that Satan suggests lies ; and thus 
we are prepared to suspect him. But we are not told by the 
Father of our spirits, that there is in them a lurking bias to 
despair, which may defeat all their wishes and^efforts to hope. 
We are told by God, of inward foes to Holiness, and of the 
war of the flesh against the spirit, and of a law in the mem- 
bers opposed to the law of the mind : but of no inward law, 
lust, or bias against Hope. When, therefore, philosophizers 
ascribe such despair to the mind itself, in order to get rid of 
Satanic agency, they only involve themselves in the greater 
difficulty, of accounting for tendency instead of temptation. 
In this dilemma, the latter is the least horn. 

We have seen that neither the cast of Bunyan's mind, nor 
the defects of his knowledge, will account fully for his prone- 
ness to despair. They explain, however, the way in which 
Satan took advantage of him so often and easily. Bunyan's 
temperament was prying, capricious, and moody ; and as he 
had no taste now for his old sins, and had never dreamt that 
it was wrong or unwise to indulge fancies and curiosity, he 
was thus an easy prey to the tempter. In fact, he almost 
tempted the devil; for he thought it ^'^ prudence ^^ to start and 
pursue curious questions, even at all hazards : a temper which 
Satan has always humoured equally, whether indulged under 
the Tree of Knowledge, the Tree of Ignorance, or the Tree of 
Life. 

Bunyan's curiosity v/as, however, universal. It pried into 
every thing which fell under his notice ; and thus the bright 
as well as the dark side of the Pillar of Revelation, engaged his 
scrutinizing eye from time to time. His mind could dwell 
long on the dark side ; but it could not forget the bright side 
altogether. Accordingly, after he had been " many weeks 
oppressed and cast down," by questioning his election, he re- 
membered having read the words, " Look at the generations 
of old, and see : did ever any trust in God, and were con- 
founded ? " That moment his hopes, which had just before 
been quite " giving up the ghost," revived, as if an angel had 
ministered to him, when the devil left him. Yea, they did not 
sink, even when he could not find the passage in either the 
Old or the New Testament, nor although none of his pious 
friends " knew such place." Moi'e than a year elapsed before 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 75 

he discovered that it was in the Apocrypha : and yet, both it, 
and the hope it created " abode " with him all the time. The 
fact is, the sublimity of the appeal, — " Look at the generations 
of old, and see," — had, when he first read it, made him look 
along the line of sacred history with an eagle-glance, which 
fell at the same time upon similar appeals, and upon corrobo- 
rating proofs ; and thus he was sure that it was, substantially, 
the word of God. 

He was, however, almost as much pleased with the way in 
which it came to him now, as with what it said. It came " so 
suddenly," " so fresh," and " fell with such weight upon his 
spirit, that it was," he says, " as if it talked to me. ^^ Now, 
although it is impossible to begrudge him this pleasure, it is 
equally impossible not to fear for a mind, which attaches so 
much importance to the manner in which truth presents itself. 
Such a mind is sure to keep on the outlook for sudden and acci- 
dental discoveries, which shall dazzle and penetrate like light, 
ning, rather than for sober truths which, like diamonds, brighten 
by rubbing. Bunyan affords a melancholy exemplification of 
this. He loved impulses, as " Ephraim loved idols ; and after 
them he did go." 

It is, however, both instructive and pleasing to observe, that 
the great impulse which floated his stranded spirit clean over 
the bar of suspected reprobation, was derived from a great 
general principle of the Word of God ; — viz. the uniform and 
uninterrupted experience of the church, that none ever trusted 
in God, and were disappointed. This fact, more than any 
explanations ever yet given of the divine sovereignty in show- 
ing mercy, has helped many who, like Bunyan, have stranded 
themselves upon the same bar. Perhaps no one ever got fairly 
over, by any other means. 

Bunyan was not long over this bar, when a new one pre- 
sented itself. " After this," he says, " that other doubt did 
come with strength upon me, — But how if the day of grace be 
past and gone ? How if you have overstood the time of mercy? 
Now I remember that one day as I was walking in the coun- 
try, I was much in the thoughts of this : But how if the day 
of grace be past? And to aggravate my trouble, the tempter 
presented to my mind those good people of Bedford, and sug- 
gested this to me, that these being converted already, they 
were all that God would save in those parts, and that I came 
too late, for those had got the blessing before me. 

" Now I \Yas in great distress ; thinking, in very deed, that 



76 LIFEOFBUNYAN, 

this might well be so." He means that, in his own case, it 
might justly have been so. And he was right ! For although 
he had sinned much through ignorance, he had also trifled 
much through sheer obstinacy. Many, indeed, have resisted 
the strivings of the Holy Spirit longer than Bunyan did ; but 
he had resisted long enough io justify ih^i Spirit, had he ceased 
to strive with him even then. However wrong a view, there- 
fore, he took of the length of the day of grace, he did only 
right v/hen he counted himself " far worse than a thousand 
fools for standing ofi' thus long, and spending so many years in 
sin." Indeed, had he not given way to despair again, and 
thus " limited the Holy One," his shame and regret would not 
have been too great, even when he went up and down the 
country bemoaning his sad condition, and saying to himself, 
" Oh, that I had turned sooner ! Oh, that I had turned seven 
years ago ! It made me almost angry with myself to think, 
that I should have no more u-it, but to trifle away my time." 

In all this, Bunyan neither erred nor exaggerated. He did 
both, however, when he rashly concluded, that " seven years " 
had exhausted the long-suffering of God. This was as hasty 
and unwarranted a conclusion, as that of his non-election» 
Accordingly, it had the same overwhelming effect upon both 
his mind and body, and that for a " long time." He " vexed " 
himself with this fear, until he was scarce " able to take one 
step more under its weight." 

He got over this fear, as he did over the former, by a great 
general principle of the gospel, and not by any given expla- 
nation of the particular difficulty which had originated the 
fear. The wide and warm commission of Christ, " Compel 
them to come in, that my house may be filled ; and yet there 
is room," convinced him that the door was not shut, nor the 
patience of God worn out. These words, especially, " And 
yet there is room," were, he says, " sweet words to me ; in the 
light and encouragement of (which) I went a pretty while : 
for truly I thought that by them, I saw there was place enough 
in heaven for me." 

He might have walked much longer in this light, had he 
looked only to its place and position in the firmament of revela- 
tion. But no: it was neither the cast nor the habit of his mind 
to be satisfied with mere truth, however sweet. Accordingly, 
he sweetened these sweet words thus : "the comfort (of them) 
was the more, when I thought that the Lord Jesus should think 
on me so long ago, and that He should speak those words on 



LIFIEOPBUNYAN. 77 

purpose for my sake ; for I did think, verily, that He did on 
purpose speak them to encourage ?«c withal. Truly I thought 
that when he did speak them, he then did think of me ; know- 
ins the time would come, that I should be afflicted with fear 
tliat there was no place left for me in his bosom. He did 
(therefore) before, speak this word, and leave it upon record, 
that I might find help thereby against this vile temptation. 
This I then verily believed." Poor Bunyan ! One of his 
reasons for believing thus was, that the words '■^hroke in upon" 
his mind. Another reason was, that they broke in "just about 
the same place " where he had received his former " encou- 
ragement." He laid much stress upon these accidents, or co- 
incidences ; little imagining, that he would have got more 
comfort from the words, had he overlooked or forgotten both 
how they came, and where they came, to him. But this was 
not his way. The ripest fruit of the Tree of Life was not 
sweet enough for him then, unless it fell at his feet by some 
happy accident, or was wrapped up in other leaves than its 
own. In like manner, it was not enough for him to meet with 
truths which were lights shining in a dark place : they must 
both dart and dazzle, and that suddenly, in order to make " the 
day-star" of hope arise in his heart. 

We, indeed, have no reason to regret that this was the turn 
of his mind. It was injurious to his own peace and piety 
at the time ; but it prepared for us the vivid characters and 
scenery of his immortal Allegories ; — into which he admitted 
no tame nor indefinite beings or things. In writing his Pil- 
grims and Holy War, he was for ever on the outlook for per- 
sons who would strike the mind at once, and keep up attention 
to the last. Accordingly, all his leading characters in both 
works, evidently darted into his own mind, and were as wel- 
come to him because of their sudden entrance, as for their 
perfect truth. He himself, however, paid dearly for the plea- 
sure he was thus prepared to give us. 

It is a curious fact, that one of the first uses he made of the 
hope and peace he derived from the ample " room" he now saw 
for himself in heaven, was to allegorize the clean and unclean 
beasts of the Jews : the very last thing which any ordinary 
man would have tried, or dreamt of, when but just emerged 
from the Slough of Despond, and only half dry from its miry 
clay and cold waters. He says, indexed, that he " was almost 
made^ about this time, to see something concerning the beasts 
that Moses counted clean and unclean." He did not require 

7* 



78 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

much forcing for such work ! The difficulty was to keep him 
from it. I only regret this, however, on his account. This 
taste, like the former, prepared him to produce for us, his 
" Solomon's Temple Spiritualized," and his " Heavenly Jerusa- 
lem Opened." It led him also then, although by a roundabout 
way, to the sober examination of more suitable truths. The 
Tinker was, however, no bad Talmudist, even from the first.. 
" I thought," he says, " those beasts were types of men : the 
clean, types of the people of God ; but the unclean^ such as 
were the children of the wicked one. Now I read, that the 
clean beasts chewed the cud : that is, thought I, they show us 
we must feed upon the word of God. They also parted the 
hoof : I thought that signified, we must part, if we would be 
saved, witti the ways of ungodly men. 

"And also in reading further about them, I found, that though 
we did chew the cud as the hare, yet if we did not part the 
hoof like the swine, or walked with claws like a d,og, yet, if we 
did not chew the cud as the sheep, we are still, for all that, but 
unclean. For, I thought the hare to be a type of those that talk 
of the word, yet walk in the wa5's of sin : and that the swine 
was like him that parted with his outward pollution, but still 
wanteth the word of faith, without which there could be no 
way of salvation, let a man be never so devout." 

This allegorizing, if less profound than some of the Talmud- 
ical, is more practical than most of it. It led also to better 
work. "After this," he says, "I found by reading the word, 
that those that must be glorified with Christ in another world, 
must be called by him here : called to the partaking of a share 
in his work and righteousness, and to the comforts and first- 
fruits of his Spirit, and to a peculiar interest in all those 
heavenly things, which do indeed prepare the soul for that rest 
and house of glory, which is in heaven above." These sound 
conclusions were drawn from the tenor of Scripture, and un- 
der the influence of what Bunyan calls " 3, sound sense of death 
and judgment," which abode continually in his view at this 
time. This deep sense of his responsibility and mortality, 
"outweighed " also many temptations from without and with- 
in, " to go back again " to the pleasures of the world. He 
also thought often of Nebuchadnezzar, and said to himself, " If 
this great man had all his portion in this world, one hour in 
hell-fire would make him forget it all." This consideration 
was " a great help ^' to him, in believing that the pleasures of 
sin were only for a season. 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 79 

With these sober and solemn truthsbeforehim, Bunyan might 
be expected, now, to eschew dark suspicions, as he did sins. 
But no : the necessity of being " called by Christ," threw him 
upon the question, Am I called ? just as former pryings had 
thrown him upon the question of election. This would be 
surprising in almost any other man : for what could be more 
probable than both the calUng and the election of a man, who 
was intensely intent upon obtaining a holy salvation ? We see 
this : but Bunyan did not see it his own case. Accordingly 
he was soon " at a very great stand'' again, " not knowing 
what to do,'' if he were not called. He put the case, " If I 
be not called, thought I, what then can do me good ? None 
but those who are effectually called, inherit the kingdom 
of heaven." 

In the lips of many, this argument is a mere excuse for 
doing nothing. Accordingly, it is in general uttered with a 
pert flippancy, which proves that they care nothing about the 
matter. Bunyan, however, was as serious and solemn as he 
was unwise, when he argued thus. It was not to exempt him- 
self from the duty of seeking to be called by Grace, nor from 
the diligence necessary in order to make his " calling sure," 
that he started the question. His perfect honesty must not, 
however, be allowed to hide his folly or his weakness, in this 
instance. He knew just as little about the length of his life, 
or the continuance of his reason, as he did of his calling and 
election. It would not, therefore, have been a whit more un- 
wise, had he tormented himself by asking, — " What if God 
call me away by death, or leave me to go mad, before I can 
seek for mercy ? None but the living and the sane can pray 
for salvation : unless, therefore, God has decreed the conti- 
nuance of my life and reason, ' what then can do me good?' " 
Any one sees the absurdity of taking up the question of time 
and talents in this way. And it is equally absurd and useless, 
to make either « Calling or Election," a preliminary question, 
in personal religion : for no man can answer it in that form or 
connexion, and God will not. 

It had, however, one good effect upon Bunyan : it made the 
subject of a special call (or conversion) unspeakably dear to 
him. Hence he exclaims, " Oh, how I now loved those words 
that spake of a Christian's calling; as when the Lord said to 
one 'Follow me,' and to another, 'Come after me.' Oh, 
thought I, — that he would say so to me too ! How gladly 
would I run after him I I cannot now express with what 



80 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

longings and breathings in my soul, I cried to Christ to call 
me. Thus I continued for a time, — all on a flame to be 
converted to Jesus Christ. I did also see at that day, such 
glory in a converted state, that I could not be contented 
without a share therein. Gold! — could it have been gotten 
for gold — what would I have given for it ? Had I a whole 
world, it had all gone, ten thousand times over, — that my 
soul might have been in a converted state. 

" How lovely now was every one in my eyes, that I thought 
to be converted, whether man or woman ! They shone — they 
walked — Hke a people that carried the broad seal of Heaven 
about them. Oh ! I saw ' the lot had fallen to them in plea- 
sant places, and they had a goodly heritage.' But that which 
made me sick was, that of Christ, in St. Mark, ' He went up 
into a mountain, and called to him whom he woidd, and they 
came unto him.' Mark iii. 13. 

"This Scripture made me faint and fear; — yet it kindled 
Jire in my soul. That which made me fear was this ; — lest 
Christ should have no liking to me : for He called whom he 
would ! But, O, the glory I saw in that condition, did still so 
engage my heart, that I could seldom read of any whom Christ 
did call, but I presently wished, — Would I had been in their 
clothes ! Would 1 had been born Peter ! Would I had been 
born John ! Or, would I had been by and heard Him when 
he called them, — how I would have cried, O Lord, call me 
also! But oh, I feared he would not call me." 

However wrong the form of this holy solicitude may be, the 
spirit of it is beyond all price. I would rather breathe this 
spirit of intense desire in unwise forms, than utter the most 
accurate prayers for conversion in a formal way. Bunyan 
erred when he looked for a Call apart from the Gospel : but 
he was not too solicitous about conversion, nor too willing to 
" count all things but loss" for it. I am often tempted, when 
my eye falls upon the cold reasonings of some Critics against 
his hot desires, to go into as metaphysical an analysis of their 
coldness, as they give of his heart ; and thus to demonstrate 
that their reasonings are more " insane'^ than his own. And 
they are certainly more below the mark than he was above it ; 
if there be any truth in the Bible, any greatness in Salvation, 
or any solemnity in Eternity. His theology is bad ; but their 
philosophy is worthless. His false thoughts are redeemed by 
his pure spirit ; but theirs have no redeeming quality ; for 
their eloquence only aggravates their heartlessness. A man 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 81 

with no hopes, is certainly a pitiable object : but a man v.ith 
no fears, is monstrous in a world where sin abounds, and im> 
mortality is believed, and accountability acknowledged. In 
such a world, even Bunyan's rav'mgs are wisdom, compared 
with either the dumb apathy, or the drivelling inanities 
of nominal Christians. His " hot fits," are extravagant ; but 
their cold temperament is revolting. It is painful to hear 
Bunyan say of his failure, whilst looking for the call of Grace 
apart from the call of Truth, " The Lord let me go thus many 
months together, and showed me nothing, either that I was 
already, or should be called hereafter :" but it is shocking to 
hear Paley say, "If we press and insist upon Conversion as 
indispensable to All for the purpose of being saved, we should 
mislead some who were never, that they knew, either indiffe- 
rent to religion, or alienated from it." Such persons *' need 
not be made miserable by the want of a consciousness of such 
a change." Sermons, p. 123. Paley, I believe, thought 
more wisely before he died: but thus he wrote when he had 
most influence upon public opinion. 

Bunyan's conflict at this time terminated in a dreamy sort 
of hope that he might eventually be converted ; and, as usual, 
that hope rested quite as much upon the peculiar manner in 
which the Text presented itself, as upon what it meant : — " At 
last after much time spent, and many groans to God, that I 
might be made partaker of the holy and heavenly calling, that 
word came in upon me, — ' I will cleanse their blood, that I have 
not cleansed; for the Lord dwelleth in Zion.' Joel iii. 21. 
Those words, I thought, were sejit to encourage me to wait 
still on God ; and signified unto me that, if 1 were not already, 
yet the time might come when I 7night be in truth, converted 
unto Christ." 

What shall we say to these things ? Something ought to 
be said, and that very plainly. In the present day, few things 
need more to be rejudged than the remarkable Experience 
of the good men of former ages. Their experience, because 
of their eventual goodness, is read and remembered by the 
pious and the thoughtful : and not unfrequently appealed to, 
in order to test or explain the religious dilemmas and vicissi- 
tudes of other minds. It is also confounded with the terror 
of the Philippian jailor, or with the anguish of the Pentecostal 
converts, as if it originated in the same causes, or necessari- 
ly belonged to real conversion. 

This is neither wise nor fair. Lydia did not tremble like 



82 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

the Jailor, nor was Timothy cut to the heart like the Jewish 
converts ; and yet their being " born again of the Spirit" is 
never questioned, by any one who believes in the necessity 
of the new birth. We almost take for granted, however, that 
distressing doubts and fears are inseparable from true piety, 
at its outset. We are even somewhat inclined to suspect, that 
their personal religion is very superficial, if not insincere, who 
have never been deeply exercised with perplexing questions, 
or with oppressive fears. And we certainly think best, of 
those who suffer most in this way. This is hardly to be won- 
dered at : for we have seldom, if ever, seen a Christian who 
was not in deep waters at first : whereas, we have always seen, 
that those professors of religion, who have " no changes, fear 
not God." But still, although it be a very suspicious thing to 
have no changes from hope to fear, or from faith to doubt, it 
does not follow that all changes of this kind, are either neces- 
sary or useful parts of Christian experience. Good may, 
indeed, come out of the worst of them, in the long run ; but 
when it does so, not a few of them are seen to be bad in them- 
selves. This is only too true, in regard to such doubts and 
fears as Bunyan gave way to. He doubted every thing by 
turns, and feared the worst always, for years. But he suffer- 
ed so much, and was so sincere, that we readily, almost 
instinctively, refer one half of his doubts to his deep humility, 
and the other half of them to the suggestions of Satan. And 
Satan, (as we shall see) had, no doubt, not a little to do with 
what Bunyan well calls, " the fiery force" of his strong temp- 
tations. That force was too fiery, to be altogether natural. 
Its rushing flame oi white heat, drove back, and almost quench- 
ed occasionally, a " very flame" of holy and heavenly desire, 
which came as truly from both the centre and surface of his 
heart, as light or heat from the sun. But still, he was to 
blame. He deserves pity; but he must be blamed, if we would 
not reflect upon the Word of God. That Word did not war- 
rant the questions he started, nor countenance the spirit in 
which they were indulged. Such questions as — Am I elect- 
ed ? Am I called, or likely to be called ? Is there any room 
in Heaven, or in the love of Christ for me? Am I a repro- 
bate, or too guilty to be forgiven, or too late to be welcome? — 
Such questions are absolutely forbidden by the scriptural fact, 
that Christ requires us to receive the Kingdom of God as little 
children. He says expressly and repeatedly, that "whosoever 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 83 

shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child, shall not 
eater therein." Mark x. 15. 

When this first requirement of the Gospel becomes the grand 
maxim of the Church, both curious and racking questions will 
soon go out of fashion ; or be as promptly avoided or suppress- 
ed by the serious, as temptations to blasphemy, vice, or athe- 
ism. Remarkable Experiences, also, which are now made 
standards of convers o ^, or quoted to explain the discou- 
ragements of some converts, will be less admired, or appeal- 
ed to. A Little Child will then be more looked at as 
the model of true humility, than the Jailor trembling, or 
Whitefield writing " bitter things against himself," or even 
than Bunyan at his wits' end. 

They do not look with the same eyes as Christ did upon a 
little child, — or they have seen only spoiled children — or look- 
ed at children too big, who do not see in the simplicity of a 
little child, the very spirit of that meekness and humility 
which the Saviour requires of us, in order to our entering into 
his kingdom on earth or in heaven. He meant of course, 
not that a child was meek or humble towards God, but that 
it was so towards men, and especially when set in the midst 
of strangers and superiors. Then, a little child, if well 
brought up (and Christ did not refer to the impudent or pee- 
vish) will believe what he is told, accept what is given him, 
and do what he is bid. Such a child would never think 
of starting doubts about the truth of any promise made to 
him, or of questioning his welcome to any gift offered to him, 
or of suspecting the good will of those who were good to him. 
He would not even ask for any explanation of the private rea- 
sons which influenced all this kindness, nor dream of saying 
that it could not be meant for him. Or if he did think it too 
much for so little a boy, the thought would only make his 
thanks the readier, and his blushes the deeper. 

It was evidently something of this kind, the Saviour meant 
when he made a little child the eternal model of true humility. 
It was, however, of Humility — not of penitence ; and of humi- 
lity in receivings not in asking nor in employing what is 
promised in the Gospel. This distinction must not be lost 
sight of. It is only as an example of receiving aright, that the 
child is held up by Christ to our imitation. Asking aright, is 
set before us by Christ in the Publican smiting upon his breast, 
and standing afar ofTin the temple, and crying for mercy with 
downcast eyes. In like manner, improving the gifts of G'"^ 



84 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

aright, is exemplified to us by Christ, in the Parable of the 
Talents. Thus it is to reflecting men, not to little childrer, 
we are sent, for the model of prayers and diligence. A child 
is, however, not a less perfect model of receiving aright, both 
gifts and promises. He may wonder, and blush to the very 
ears, and advance with a tottering foot and a timid hand, 
when good things are held out to him, or great promises made 
to him ; but he has no suspicions ; he starts no objections ; he 
gives way to no curious questions nor dark surmises. He is 
tt)o much pleased to be of a doubtful mind. He lets the gifts 
and promise's made to him, make all their natural impression 
upon his heart, even if that make him dance with joy. 

Now this is just the spirit in which Christ wishes men to 
receive the glad tidings of Salvation, or the Gospel of the 
Kingdom ; readily, gratefully, and even joyfully. He does 
not command or sanction doubts, questions, or hesitation. He 
throws no serious mind upon the mysteries of either Grace or 
Providence, except to stir it up to " strive to enter into the 
Kingdom of God." 

It is, I am well aware, easier said than done, to receive the 
offers and promises of that Kingdom like a little child. Very 
few do so at first. What then? They are glad to do so at 
last. Not one of those, Bunyan not excepted, who tried other 
methods, found solid peace or hope, until they embraced the 
Promises, just as a little child takes his father's word, or his 
mother's offer. Until they received the Promise of the King, 
dom thus, they did not enter into the joy, the peace, or the 
safety, which the Kingdom of God provides for its willing 
subjects. They looked at them, indeed, with a longing eye, 
and prayed for them with strong cries and tears, and admired 
them with a holy esteem ; but they could not appropriate 
them. They sometimes thought and felt, for a moment, that 
they had entered into the joy of salvation, and found rest to 
their souls : but the sweet hope did not last long. It could not. 
They took it up, not as a little child, because it was set before 
them in the Gospel of the Kingdom ; but because they allow- 
ed themselves to take their calling and election for granted 
then, or because they jfeZi something which seemed to give them 
a right to believe the promises. The fact is, they wanted from 
the first to believe the glad tidings of the Gospel, not as great 
sinners only, nor as little children simply, but as great favour- 
ites ; or as "chosen and ordained" heirs of the Kingdom. 
They had no objections to believe it as great sinners, nor to b© 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 85 

thankful for it as great debtors ; but they wanted to beUeve it 
^o. as the elect children, or the adopted children, or the dear 
children of God, at the same time. If they thought at all 
of receiving the Gospel of the Kingdom as a little child, they 
meant not as such a little child as Christ selected and set up as 
a model, but as a child of God. As, indeed, one of the leasts 
or even " less than the least," of all the spiritual and special 
children of the Kingdom ; but still, as one of them and not 
merely as an ordinary child. 

It is not easy to expose this mistake, nor to expostulate 
against it, without seeming to undervalue or overlook what 
the Scriptures say about sonship, adoption, and election. It 
must be done however, at all hazards, if Bunyan's mistakes 
are to be explained, or not to be perpetuated. More than one 
half of all his difficulties and distractions arose from trying to 
receive the Kingdom of God as an elect child, instead of ac- 
cepting its offered blessings as a little child. Besides, these 
blessings are not offered to men, as elected, or as adopted, or 
as converted ; but to men as lost sinners, and unworthy crea- 
tures. Whatever, therefore, the sovereignty of God in show- 
ing mercy may be, those certainly do not honour it most or 
best who want to know their election, before they hope in His 
mercy. They may, indeed, mean well ; but they judge ill, 
and even presume not a little. The unquestioning silence of 
a child is better homage to the Divine sovereignty, than this 
suspicious prying into the divine will. True ; a child is igno- 
rant, and therefore unsuspecting. Equally true it is, how- 
ever, that there must be some wrong twist about the knowledge, 
which leads a man to be suspicious of the love of God. Such 
knowledge, to say the least of it, is not warranted to despise 
the child's ignorance. 

But, it will be said by some, there is an Election of Grace; 
and, therefore, it is impossible for a man who believes this, not 
to ask the question Bunyan did — Am I elected? Now there 
would certainly be some sense in this, if any answer could be 
got to the question. It is a very natural question, I grant: 
but it becomes both foolish and unnatural, to push or put it in 
the face of the notorious fact, that no man can answer it at all, 
and that God never will answer it beforehand. All that God 
has promised to do in this matter, is, to enable those who be- 
lieve and obey the Gospel with child-like simplicity, to make 
their calling and election sure. 

What then, it may be said, is the use of the doctrine, or the 
8 



80 LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 

design of it, in reference to those who are afraid to believe 
the Gospel for themselves? It adds to their fears, and hindeite 
their faith, they say. True ; and something else would just 
have the same effect upon them, if there were no such doc- 
trine in the Bible, so long as they do not set themselves to be 
as little children before God. It is to shut us up to a child- 
like spirit in asking and hoping for mercy, that God says he 
will have mercy upon whom he will have mercy. Every 
man must become a little child at the Mercy-seat, if he would 
be welcome there. No other temper suits it : and therefore 
God takes measures to make us child-like; and one of them is, 
the revelation of His soverignty, — which says to us in plain 
terms. " You cannot force My will, nor find out My secrets, 
nor open the Lamb's Book of Life: will you then throw your- 
selves upon the good pleasure of my will, just as your little 
child would trust your good-will, when he had your word for 
what he wanted? You have My word for all the mercy you 
need ; and until you take my paternal promise as a child would, 
you will get nothing more to warrant or encourage you to 
hope for mercy." 

This is evidently the spirit of the appeal made to us in the 
Gospel. And it is equally obvious, that we can do nothing 
better, indeed, nothing else to any good purpose, than just 
meet God's appeal as a child would. To do so, is real manli- 
ness, as well as godliness ; real strength of mind, as well as 
true humility : for it is in this child-like temper, the Cherubim 
and Seraphim, Angels and Arch-angels, receive the commands 
and promises of God, at the Eternal Throne. . Their highest 
reasonings, and noblest principles, and sublimest tastes, all re- 
solve themselves into the confiding simplicity of a little child. 
In this connexion, it is not childish to be child-like ! He is 
childish in the worst sense, who thinks it beneath bim to be- 
come a little child, when he listens to the Eternal Father. 
Gabriel does not think it beneath him, nor Michael unworthy 
of him. 

It is somewhat curious, as well as lamentable, that neither 
Wesley nor Whitefield, saw, when they revived the doctrine 
of Regeneration, that a child-like spirit is what the Saviour 
chiefly means by the New Birth. The man who shall give 
currency to this fact, without lessening dependence on the 
grace of the Holy Spirit, will, like them, do good service to 
both the world and the Church. How can preachers on Re- 
generation answer to God or man, for quoting this maxim so 
seldom ? 



LIFE OF BUNYAN, 87 



CHAPTER VIII. ^ 



COUNSELLORS. 

Whilst Bunyan's mind was vibrating between hope and fear, 
in regard to the probability of his eventual conversion, he 
wisely resolved to open his mind to some of those Chris- 
tians upon whom he saw " the broad seal of Heaven." He 
had not many such to choose amongst. " He imparted his 
feelings," says Dr. Southey, " to those poor women whose 
conversation had first brought him into these perplexities and 
struggles." This was not unnatural nor unwise. Their con- 
versation had convinced him, " of the happy and blessed con- 
dition of a truly godly man." Besides, they alone had mani. 
fested any deep interest in his spiritual welfare. Neither " our 
Parson," nor any of his flock, had paid any attention to the 
reformed Tinker, beyond compliments to his reformation, al- 
though he worshipped only at Church, and must have been 
seen their from Sabbath to Sabbath, like Hannah in the Ta- 
bernacle at Shiioh, wearing all the marks " of a sorrowful 
spirit, and weeping sore." However ilUqualified, therefore, 
the poor women at Bedford may have been to 

" Minister to a mind diseased," 

they alone had manifested sympathy with Bunyan's mind 
when it was ignorant. They first talked at him, and then to 
him, whilst he was a self-conceited Pharisee ; and so wisely, 
that he soon took the place, the prayer, and the position of the 
Publican in the Temple. And now with equal wisdom, and 
more modesty, they did not trust themselves to answer his dark 
questions, when they saw his wounded spirit bleeding ; but 
acquainted their Minister with his case. 

" About this time I began," he says, " to break my mind to 
those poor people in Bedford, and to tell them my condition : 
which, when they heard, they told Mr. GifTard of me, who him- 
self also took occasion to talk with ma, and was willing to bo 
well persuaded of mo, though, I think, from little grounds. 



88 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

But he invited me to his house, where I should hear him con- 
fer with others about the deahngs of God with their souls." 

" This course," says Dr. Southey, " was httle likely to com- 
pose a mind so agitated." But why not? What hkeher 
course could tde minister have adopted, than introducing Bun- 
yan to hear the experience of other anxious inquirers, and to 
share the encouragement addressed to them? It is not fair to 
judge of this course by its results, in Bunyan's case. It did 
well for many, although not for him ; and it did not fail with 
him for the reason which Dr. Southey assigns. He says, that 
Bunyan's "spiritual Physician, in persuading him that his 
heart was innately and wholly wicked, had well nigh made 
him believe that it was hopelessly and incurably so. False 
notions of that corruption of our nature, which it is almost as 
perilous to exaggerate as to dissemble, had laid upon him a 
burthen heavy as that with which his own Christian begins 
his pilgrimage." Now it is certainly the fact that the inter- 
views between Bunyan and Gifford led the former to regard his 
heart as "innately and wholly wicked;" and therefore it is 
highly probable that the latter said so. What else could he 
say, if he spoke as the Oracles of God speak on this subject? 
It is, however, utterly improbable that Gifford said a word 
which had any tendency to make or lead Bunyan to believe 
his heart to be " hopelessly or incurably" wicked. Gifford 
was the last man in the world, to have taught or taken this view 
of Bunyan's case. Dr. Southey might have seen this to be 
the fact even from his own picture of Gifford. He had been 
a far worse man both in heart and life than the Tinker ; and 
was therefore altogether unlikely, now that he was a good 
man, to lead him to think himself incurably bad. Like John 
Newton, it was impossible he could despair of any one, after 
the change which took place in his own heart. 

Gifford's history is remarkable ; and as he was, no doubt, 
the original of Evangelist in the Pilgrim's Progress, it de- 
serves to be perpetuated. He was a Kentish man, and con- 
cerned in the rising of that county for the King. He had 
held the rank of Major in the royal army, and was a thorough 
cavalier in politics and profligacy. He was, however, soon 
apprehended, and, with eleven of his companions in arms, 
sentenced to be hanged. But on the night preceding his in- 
tended execution, his sister visited him in prison ; and finding 
the guards without fast asleep, and his fellow-prisoners dead 
drunk within, she urged him to escape for his life. He 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 89 

so, and reached the fields in safety. For nearly three days, 
however, he had to hide himself in a ditch, and to live upon 
water. Then by the help of his friends, he v/as sent in dis- 
guise to London. But that was no hiding place then. He 
therefore made his way into Bedfordshire, and was concealed 
by some of the few great royalists in that county, until all 
danger was over. He then exchanged the sword for the lan- 
cet, and settled in Bedford as a medical man. This bold step 
may have been, as Dr. Southey thinks, impudent, or without 
any " scruple concerning qualifications." This was not un- 
common at the time. Medicine was the only Profession then, 
into which an old officer could thrust himself. As Giffbrd, 
however, had been a Major in the King's army, he must have 
been a man of some education, and ^pay have been a man of 
some skill. But however this may be, he was a man of no 
principle, as to religion or morals. Ivimey says, he was 
" abandoned to vice.'' Southey says, he was " reckless and 
profligate; a great drinker and gambler; and oaths came from 
his lips with habitual profaneness. And he hated the Puritans 
so heartily for the misery they had brought upon the nation, 
and upon himself in particular, that he often thought of killing 
a certain Anthony Harrington, for no other provocation than 
because he was a leading man among persons of that descrip- 
tion in Bedford." 

Giffbrd, although an habitaal gambler, was seldom or never 
successful. One night he lost a large sum. It drove him 
almost mad. In his frenzy, he uttered daring words against 
God, and cherished darker thoughts. He was about to dare 
the worst, wrien his eye fell upon one of Bolton's works, which 
arrested both his purpose and his conscience effectually. It 
threw him into great distress for a short time : but eventually 
it led him to the Cross. 

The passage in Bolton, which met the case of Giffbrd, was 
this : — " In the invitation of Christ to all that labour and are 
heavy laden^ to come to Him for rest to their souls, there is no 
exception of sins, times, nor places. And if thou shouldst 
reply, Yea, but alas, I am the unworthiest man in the world 
to draw near unto so holy a God— to press into so pure a pre- 
sence — to expect upon the sudden such glorious, spiritual, and 
heavenly advancement. Most impure, abominable and beastly 
wretch that I am — readier far to sink into the bottom of hell, 
by the unsupportable weight of my manifold heinous sins ! I 
say then, the text tells t-liee plainly, that thou mightily mis- 



90 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

takest : for therefore only art thou fit, because thou feelest so 
sensibly thy unfitness, unworthiness, vileness, wretchedness. 
The sorer and heavier thy burden is, the rather thou shouldst 
come. It is such as thou, whom Christ here specially aims at, 
invites and accepts." From such views of Christ's gracious 
intentions, and especially from clear views of the precious 
blood of atonement, Gifford was soon led into both joy and 
peace in believing. So fully did he come to Christ, that the 
" rest " of his soul was never disturbed afterwards. He entered 
into such rest, or as Dr. Southey well calls it, " so exalted 
and yet so happy a state of mind, that from that time till 
within a few days of his death, he declared — " he lost not the 
light of God's countenance — no not for an hour." — Southey^ s 
Bunyan. , 

One of Gifford's first steps after his conversion, was, to seek 
the company and fellowship of the Puritans, whom he had 
" hated so heartily." This is not so wonderful as his betaking 
himself to read Bolton, whilst that hatred was exasperated by 
the frenzy of atheistical despair. It was only natural now, 
that he should bring forth fruits meet for repentance, by bless- 
ing those whom he had so often and bitterly cursed. Besides, 
where, but amongst the Puritans, could he have found men 
suited to his new tastes ? These were now virtuous and holy ; 
and he sought for their gratification only at " the meetings of 
the persons whom he had formerly most despised;" a plain 
proof that he ceased to think, that the Puritans had brought 
" much misery upon the nation, or on himself in particular." 
Thus he changed his mind on this point ; and evidently be- 
cause he saw the utter injustice of his former suspicions. He 
had hated the Puritans for the reason Dr. Southey assigns ; 
but now he loved them, because he found that reason to be 
(what it still is) a mere prejudice of education, or a party- 
pretence. It was the long and systematic oppression of Puri- 
tanism by the Crow n and the Mitre, that created the indignant 
reaction of popular opinion and feeling, which brought misery 
upon the nation. 

The Bedford Puritans were very shy of Gifford's first ad- 
vances to them. Like the disciples at Jerusalem with Saul 
of Tarsus, "they were all afraid of him, and believed not that 
he was a disciple." But although both shunned and repulsed 
by them at first, he persevered in courting their fellowship. 
He seems even to have thrust himself upon them again and 
again, before he could gain a hearing from them in public or 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 91 

private. And even when he had convinced them of his sin- 
cerity, they were very slow in encouraging his wish to preach, 
and still slower in calling him to be their pastor. He carried 
his point, however, by perseverance, in both objects ; and wa& 
remarkably useful. What Izaak Walton says of Dr. Donne, 
may be said of Gifford, " None was so like St. Augustine 
before his conversion; nor so like St. Ambrose after it." On 
his death-bed he could say with Donne, and with equal truth, 
" I have quieted the consciences of many that groaned' under 
a wounded spirit." — Preface to Donne's Sermons, by Izaak 
Walton. 

Bunyan himself says of" holy Mr. Gifford," as he well calls 
him, "This man made it his business to deliver the people of 
God from all those hard and unsound ^^65^5, that by nature we 
are prone to." So far, therefore, he was evidently an invalu- 
able friend to Bunyan, although at first his distress increased 
under him. It would have done so, in some form, under any 
spiritual guide ; for he was a self-tormentor, as well as a 
tempted man. Conder says, that " Gifford had not penetration 
enough to discover the character of the extraordinary man 
thus brought under his notice." If this mean that he could 
not discern Bunyan's genius, it is only necessary to say that 
his genius had not then shown itself; and that Gifford was not 
looking for gifts, but for marks of grace. If, however, it mean, 
that he had not penetration enough to discover the extraordi- 
nary twists of Bunyan's mind, it is only too true; and proves 
that he was no physician, whatever he may have been as a 
surgeon. 

Bunyan's friends, indeed, were all as ignorant of his malady 
as himself. They neither saw nor suspected anything in his 
case, but temptation and the power of conscience ; and, ac- 
cordingly, suggested nothing to him but spiritual consolation. 
This, of course, he both needed and deserved from them : but 
he needed also medical treatment, and more interesting em- 
ployment than tinkering. I do not know that he was as poor 
a hand at mending old kettles, as Carey was at making new 
shoes ; but he was as evidently out of his element. His craft 
gave neither pleasure nor play to his sea-like restlessness of 
mind, and but little bracing to his nerves, except when he was 
walking his rounds : and the clink of the hammer, and the 
rasp of the file, irritated them more than his exercise could 
counteract. He wanted, although he knew it not, something 
to do, which would have expended the surplus energy of his 



92 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

mind, or absorbed his attention during the greater part of 
every day, or compelled him to think about others as well as 
himself. Had GifTord set him to teach the poor children of 
Elstow to read the Bible on the Sabbath evenings or morn- 
ings, as well as set him to the study of his own heart and ex- 
perience, Bunyan would have plunged into the work, and thus 
lost sight of himself for the time, in the pleasure of doing 
good. But it is useless to regret now, except in order to 
warn others against thinking of themselves only, and against 
living only to think. We shall soon see that when Bunyan 
began to preach and write for the benefit of others, he soon 
got over his personal fears» 

One of his counsellors must have been a very weak man : 
for he gave in at once to the absurd fear, that Bunyan had 
*' sinned thesin against the Holy Ghost." " I told hitn all my 
case," he says, " and also, that I was afraid I had 'committed 
the unpardonable sin.' He said, he thought so too. Here, 
therefore, I had but cold comfort." And yet, this man was 
an " antient Christian," by report ! Young as Bunyan was, 
however, he had sense enough to see that a man, who could 
take this for granted, so readily and coolly, was anything but 
a wise man. " Talking a little more with him," he says, "I 
found him, though a good man, a stranger to much combat 
with the devil. Wherefore I went again to God for mercy 
still, as well as I could." 

His other counsellors, at this time, were both kinder and 
wiser. " They would pity me," he says, "and would tell me of 
the promises." What else could they do? The pity of Chris- 
tians, and the promises of God, had lifted them over their own 
fears, and would have placed his feet upon a rock too, had his 
head or his nerves been like theirs. Christian sympathy, and 
the same promises, did so eventually and effectually, when he 
became calm enough to appreciate them. Even before that, 
Gifford's doctrine contributed much to his " stability" in holy 
principles and habits, although not in hope or peace. 

He heard also at this time a preacher, who comforted him 
a little by grafting upon the Canticles, according to the 
fashion of that day, truths which, as Dr. Southey justly says, 
" he might have found in every page of the Gospel, had there 
not been a mist before his understanding." 

I thus characterize as well as enumerate Bunyan's first 
guides in the dreary wilderness of temptation, that the reader 
may not wonder too much at either his mistakes, or his terrors. 



l\ 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 93 

There was no Great-Heart, although many a good-hearty 
amongst his feliow pilgrims then. Besides, he was not always 
frank with them. I mean, he was equally afraid to tell them 
all his wo, and to hear all their opinion. Not, however, that 
he suspected them of any prejudice or want of sympathy : but 
he imagined at times, that God had said to them, " Pray not 
for him, for I have rejected him." " I thought," he says, " that 
God had whispered this to some of them ; — only they durst not 
tell me, neither durst I ask them of it, for fear ii it should be 
so, it would make me quite beside myself." Poor Bunyan ! 
Thy contemporaries, Milton, Owen, Baxter, and Jeremy Tay- 
lor, ought to have been the friends. And had they known 
thee, they would. 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 



CHAPTER IX. 

bunyan's relapses. 

BuNYAT^'s relapses in religion were neither slight nor short ; 
but none of them were practical. Even when his heart lost 
all relish and desire for spiritual things, his conscience was all 
alive and quivering with the hatred of sin. He himself was 
struck with this strange anomaly in his character ; and I point 
it out, to prove that a man may believe his " heart to be in- 
nately and wholly wicked," and yet hate and avoid sin, only 
the more on that very account ; — just as a man who believes 
himself to be radically cansumptive, may avoid stimulants. 

When Bunyan reviewed this contrast between the hardness 
of his heart and the tenderness of his conscience, he used a 
comparison peculiarly his own ; but which none of his biogra- 
phers have ventured to explain. " My hinder parts," he says, 
" were inward, all the while." He refers to the position of 
the twelve oxen of brass, under the molten sea of the temple. 
*' The sea was set above upon them, and all their hinder parts 
w^ere inward." 2 Chron. iv. 4. Only their majestic front 
was seen, under the lily-icreaihed brim of the magnificent laver. 
This emblem he explains and applies with great point, in his 
" Temple Spiritualized." Its application to himself he states 
thus in his "Grace Abounding," " O, how gingerly (cautiously) 
dia I then go, in all I did or said ! I durst not take a pin, or 
stick, though not so big as a straw : for my conscience now 
was sore, and would start at every touch. I could not now 
tell how to speak my words, for fear I should misplace them, 
I found myself as in a miry bog, that shook if I did but stir." 

Such his conscience remained, even whilst the following 
relapses went on in his heart. " My heart would not be mov- 
ed to mind that which was good. It began to be careless 
both of my soul and heaven, and to work at a rate it never 
did before. Now I evidently found, that lusts and corruptions 
put forth themselves within me, in wicked thoughts and desires 
which I did not regard (notice) before. My heart would now 
continually hang back, both to and in every duty ; and was 
as a clog on the leg of a bird, to hinder it from flying. Nay, 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 95 

I thought, — now I grow worse and worse ; now I am farther 
off from conversion than ever I was before : wherefore I began 
to sink greatly, and began to entertain such discouragement 
in my heart as laid me low as hell. If I now should have 
turned at a stake, I could not believe that Christ had a love 
for me. Alas, I could neither hear Him, nor see Him, nor 
feel Him) nor savour any of His things. I was driven as 
with a tempest ! My heart would be unclean, and the Canaan- 
ites would dwell in the land. All my sense and feeling were 
against me. I saw 1 had a heart that would sin, and that 
lay under a Law that would condemn." 

" Further, in these days, I would find my heart shut itself 
up against the Lord, and against his holy word. I have 
found my unbelief to set, as it were, the shoulder to the door, 
to keep Him out : and that too even, — when I have with many 
a bitter sigh cried, Good Lord, break it open. Lord, break 
these 'gates of brass,' and cut these 'bars of iron asunder.'" 

The only thing which operated as a check upon this 
alienation and alarm, was, a vague hope that he might, like 
Cyrus, be intended for some service in the cause of God : 
" that word would sometimes create in my heart a peaceable 
pause, — ' I girded thee, though thou hast not known me.' " 
We thus find him again taking up with one of the very last 
Texts, which we should expect him to apply to himself at 
such a time. The application is not, however, so forced or 
far-fetched as it seems at first sight. It is, in fact, quite in 
keeping with the law of his associations: for he linked his 
ideas together by sounds or sensations. When he did pray 
at all now, it was that " the fears and aversions which, like 
gates of brass and bars of iron," shut up his heart against 
godliness, might be broken. Tins was the form which his 
prayers took ; and l)eing also the form of the promise made to 
Cyrus, he tried to class himself, so far, with Cyrus. Bunyan 
took, however, another view of these sad failings when he 
wrote the history of them : " These things," he says, " have 
often made me think of the child, which tlie flither brought to 
Christ ; who, while he was yet coming to Him, was thrown 
down by tlie devil, and also so rent and torn by him, that he 
lay and wallowed, foaming." 

His distress really came to this soon ; although Satan had, 
perhaps, less to do with it than with some former and subse- 
quent temptations of another kind. "My original and inward 
pollution," he exclaims, « that, that was my plague and afHic 



96 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

tion ; — that, I saw always putting itself forth within me at 
a dreadful rate ; — that, I had the guilt of to amazement. By 
reason of that, I was more loathsome in mine own eyes than a 
toad ; and I thought I was so in God's eyes too. Sin, and 
corruption, I said, would as naturally bubble out of my heart, 
as water would bubble out of a fountain. I thought now, that 
every one had a better heart than I had. I could have chang- 
ed hearts with any body. I thought none but the devil 
himself could equalize me for inward wickedness and pollution 
of mind." 

There is extravagance in this, certainly : but there is also 
much sober truth in it. For although there were worse hearts 
in Bedford, and anywhere, than Bunyan's, his heart was now 
both estranged and averse to meditative and devotional piety. 
" The root of the matter" was in him : but it was overrun 
with the matted weeds of ignorance, fear, and suspicion. 
Even this is not all the truth concerning him, at this time. 
Like Jonah, he was "angry^^ with God, because the Gourds 
under which he wanted to screen his head, withered as fast as 
they had sprung up. He did not think the " wee bush" of a 
simple Promise *' better than nae bield ;" but almost demand- 
ed that the stately Cedars of Calling and Election, should 
spring " up in a night," and shelter him forever. 

This is the real secret of Bunyan's hardness of heart : He 
could not get what he wanted, in his own way, nor at his own 
time ; and therefore, he " charged God foolishly," and in no 
small bitterness as well as grief of spirit. " Sure, thought I," 
he exclaims, "I am forsaken of God; sure, I am given up to 
the devil, and to a reprobate mind. Now I was sorry that 
God had made me man ; for I feared I was a reprobate. Yea, 
I thought it impossible that ever I should arrive to so much 
godliness of heart, as to thank God that he had made me a man. 
I counted myself alone, and above all men unblessed. The 
beasts, birds, fishes — I blessed their condition ; for they had 
not a sinful nature, and were not obnoxious to the wrath of 
God. I could have rejoiced had my condition been as theirs. 
I counted man — as unconverted — the most doleful of all crea- 
tures." 

There is more than self-abasement, or even than self-con- 
demnation, in this wild reasoning. It breathes much of pride 
and self-will also. I would not reprehend nor characterize it 
thus harshly, had it been but the occasional ebullition of his 
mind. Such dark and daring regrets may flash across the 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 97 

spirit for a moment, without proving much against its general 
temperament: but when they last and are indulged for years, 
they do prove that God is arraigned as well as dreaded. 
Now this temper did last long. Bunyan himself says, "Thus 
I continued a long while, even for some years together." 
The misery he endured whilst indulging this wrong spirit 
must not, therefore, be allowed to hide or soften its badness. 
It was proud and peevish as well as despairing. He did all 
but curse the day of his birth. 

This is a painful conclusion ; but it is not a rash one ; nor 
is there any reason to wonder, that Bunyan's heart became 
thus exasperated against God. The heart of any man is 
capable of all this, if he once give way to despair. The 
heart will then harden, just in proportion as it suffers. Be- 
sides, the very claims of Religion upon it, can exasperate its 
enmity against God, when they are looked at in all their length 
and breadth. Such a look of them, Bunyan had taken; and 
their " Law" not only wrought " wrath," but also, as in the 
case of Paul, "all manner of concupiscence." He saw what 
he ought to be in heart and spirit, and he did not like it. He 
was not unwilling to be moral ; but he was averse to spiritual- 
ity and heavenly minded ness, when he found that they had to 
be cultivated by watchfulness and prayer, and to be maintain- 
ed as duties even when hope was low and feeling languid. 
Thus it was not " false notions," of his own depravity, which 
" well nigh made him believe that his heart was hopelessly and 
incurably" depraved : but it was a clear sight and a deep sense 
of what his heart ought to be, that offended him at first, and 
afterwards exasperated him, when he found no way of prying 
into either the Ark of the divine purposes, or the Lamb's book 
of life. Disappointments of this kind can mortify as well as 
alarm ; harden as well as horrify the mind : and the man who 
can " observe the symptoms whilst in the paroxysms," will 
inevitably, and not unreasonably, fall in with God's opinion, 
even to the very letter, that " the heart is deceitful above all 
things, and desperately wicked." The Oracle adds the ques- 
tion, "Who can know it?" Bunyan knew it better than 
Jeremy Taylor, — who was at this time bending all the force 
of his genius and erudition against even the qualified creed 
of his own Church, on the subject of original and inherent sin ; 
and better too than Anthony Burgess, although he was sustain- 
ing Augustine against Taylor ; for Bunyan judged from expe- 
rience, and not from books nor tradition. 

9 



98 LIFEOFBUNYAN, 

The difference of opinion on this subject, between Bunyan 
and Bishop Taylor, is easily accounted for. Both reasoned 
about the human heart from their own hearts, and in reference 
to widely different circumstances. Taylor's views of the 
heart were modified by his consciousness of what his own 
heart would "indite" upon an episcopal throne, or in the 
King's Chapel ; and Bunyan, by what tinkering, travelling, 
and poverty, opposed to watchfulness and devotion. No 
thinking man can wonder, that those who can rise to affluence 
or influence by eminent piety, should feel less aversion to it at 
first, than those who cannot better their worldly circumstances 
at all. The heart does not writhe nor rise against spiritual 
religion, until much of it is required, and no temporal advan- 
tage be seen to accrue from it. I make this remark in con- 
nexion with Jeremy Taylor, because he is as justly venerated 
as he is well known, and because he is infinitely beyond all 
suspicion of direct worldly. mindedness. He retained both 
his greatness and spirituality, under poverty and suffering. 
But still, he reasoned and wrote, with Mitres and Palaces in 
his memory and imagination ; and the prospect of restoring 
them, although not for himself, made him think too well of 
human nature, because he saw that it had no great objection 
to be even 

" Tioice a saint in lawn." 

He himself would have been a saint in sackcloth, after his 
principles were fixed and his character formed : but the ques- 
tion is, would he not have thought worse of human nature, 
had he been as like the Tinker in condition and education at 
first, as he was in genius and mental energy ? 

Bunyan did not always judge ill at this time, either of him- 
self or of others. He could see the folly of others in distress- 
ing themselves about earthly things, even when he was blind 
to his own folly in vexing himself about "secret things." A 
sounder judgment of " the course of this world " than the fol- 
lowing, it would not be easy to quote or conceive : — " While I 
was thus afflicted with the fears of my own damnation, there 
were two things would make me wonder. The one was, — 
when I saw people hunting after the things of this life, as if 
they should live here always. The other was, — when I found 
Professors much distressed and cast down when they met with 
outward losses, as of husband, wife, child, dtc. Lord, thought 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 99 

Ij — what a-do Is here about such little things as these ! What 
seeking after carnal things by some, and what grief in others 
for the loss of them ! " These are not unfair nor unfeeling 
exclamations. He is no wise man who does not wonder and 
weep too, to see how all losses, but the loss of the soul, are 
deprecated and deplored ; whilst that is not avoided nor feared 
by the generality. Bunyan went too far when he added, " If 
they so much labour after, and shed so many tears for, the 
things of this present life, — how am I to be bemoaned, pitied, 
and prayed for ? My soul is dying ! My soul is damning ! '* 
This conclusion was rash : but the reasoning is sound. So it 
is in the following exclamation, " Were my soul but in a good 
condition, and were I but sure of it, ah! how rich should I 
esteem myself, though blessed with but bread and water. I 
should count those but small afflictions, and bear them as little 
burthens. But a wounded spirit who can bear? " 

Nothing, however, shows more the general soundness of 
Banyan's judgment, during the years this despair lasted, than 
his willingness to bear "a wounded spirit," rather than take 
up with a false peace, or a superficial cure. He dreaded a 
seired conscience more than a sad heart. Hence he says, 
with touching simplicity, and with holy jealousy, and with 
great wisdom, — " Though I was much troubled, and tossed, 
and afflicted, with the sight, sense, and terror of my own wick- 
edness, yet I was afraid to let this sight and sense go quite 
off my mind : for I found, that unless guilt of conscience was 
taken otT the right way — by the Blood of Christ — a man grew 
rather worse for the loss of his trouble of mind. Wherefore, 
if my guilt lay hard upon me, then would I cry that the blood 
of Christ might take it off. And if it was going off without 
IT (for the sense of sin would be sometimes as if it would die 
and go quite away,) then I would also strive to fetch it upon 
my heart again, by bringing the punishment of sin in hell-fire 
upon my spirits ; and would cry, Lord, let it not go off my 
heart, but in the right way — by the blood of Christ, and the 
application of Thy mercy, through Him, to my soul. For 
that Scripture did lay much upon me, * without shedding of 
blood there is no remission.' Heh. ix. 22. And that which 
made me more afraid of this, v/as, — -because I had seen some 
who, though when they were under the wounds of conscience 
would prav and cry, yet, seeking rather present ease from their 
trouble than pardon for their sin, cared not how they lost their 
guilt, so they got it out of their mind. Now having got it 
O 



100 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

off the wrong way, it was not sanctified unto them r and 
(accordingly) they grew harder, and Winder, and more wick- 
ed after their trouble. This made me afraid, and made me 
cry to God the more, that it might not be so with me." 

Much as I admire the heroism of the Martyrs, who would 
not "accept deliverance" from the stake or the wheel, at the 
expense of even a nod, or a grain of incense, to the national 
altars of Rome, I admire still more the heroism of Bunyan, in 
thus preferring to bear, for years, the agonies of " a wounded 
spirit," rather than risk the purity or the tenderness of his 
conscience. This is the very highest homage which faith or 
patience can pay to the authority of moral Law. Whoever 
does not feel this, does not know what Job or Bunyan meant 
by "a wounded spirit." Those who do, will not blame me for 
asking them to pause here, — to contemplate the holy integrity 
of John Bunyan, whilst a Tinker, in striving to fetch back 
upon his heart his overwhelming sense of guilt ; and in crying 
to God, "let it not go off;" and in bringing "the pains of 
Hell " around himself, lest it should go off in a wrong way, 
or in any way, but by the blood of Christ. Even those who 
cannot sympathize with his distress, must admire his self- 
denying honesty. 

We do not wonder that a " comforting time " came to this 
man, at the close of such an effort to maintain a good con- 
science towards God. It did come at length, although it tar- 
ried long, and continued but for a short season. " I heard 
one," he says, " preach a sermon on these words in the Song, 
'Behold thou art fair, my Love.' But at that time, he made 
these two words, 'My Love,' his chief and subject matter. 
After he had a little opened the Text, he observed these several 
conclusions, 1. That the Church, and so every saved soul, is 
Christ's Love, (even) when loveless. 2. Is Christ's Love 
without a cause. 8. Christ's Love hath been hated of the 
world. 4. Is Christ's Love under temptation and utter dis* 
traction. 5. Is Christ's Love from first to last. 

"But I got nothing, until he came to Vae fourth particular, 
(when) this was the word he said,-—' If it be so, that the saved 
soul is Christ's Love when under temptation and distraction, 
then Poor Tempted Soul, when thou art assaulted and afflict, 
ed with temptations and hiding of God's face, yet think on 
these two words, My Love, still." So as I was going home, 
these words came again into my thoughts : and I well remem- 
ber, I said this in my heart as they came in,-— what shall I get 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 101 

by thinking on these two words ? This thought had no sooner 
passed through my heart, but the words began to kindle thus 
in my spirit, twenty times together, — ' Thou art my love, thou 
art my love ! ' And still as they ran in my mind, they waxed 
warmer and warmer, and began to make me look up. But 
being as yet between Hope and Fear, I still replied in my 
heart, — but is it true ; but is it true? At which that sentence 
fell upon mc, ' He wist not that it was tme, which was done 
unto him of the Angel.' Acts, xii. 9. 

" Then, — I began to give place to the word which, with 
power, did over and over make this 'joyful sound,' within my 
soul ; ' Thou art my love, and nothing shall separate thee from 
my love.' With that mv heart was fiWed full of comfort and 
hope. And now I could believe that my sins would be for- 
given me. Yea, I was now so taken with the love and mercy 
of God, that I remember I could not tell how to contain till I 
got home. I thought I could have spoken of His love, and told 
of His mercy to me, even to the very Crows that sat on the 
ploughed lands before me, had they been capable to have 
understood me." 

This wish to speak to the crows is no weakness. It is not 
unnatural, however unusual it may be. David went lower 
than Bunyan, and called even on " creeping things,'^ as well as 
upon " flying foul and all cattle," to praise the Lord with him. 
Whenever his adoring gratitude became unspeakable to his 
lips, or unutterable by his harp, he invariably devolved the 
song of praise, not only upon all the armies of Heaven, but 
upon all the works of Nature also. He turned the Universe 
into a vast Orchestra, and tuned all its voices to the melody 
of his own heart. Not only must all the Angels around the 
throne assist his mighty joys and grateful feelings, but the sun 
and moon, and all the stars of light, must join the song. The 
waters above and beneath the firmament, must roll to music, 
and even the storms of winter keep time and tune with the 
harp of Judah. He blended in his Hallelujah Chorus, the 
hum of the Bee, and the hymn of the Archangel. Bunyan 
remembered this, when his own harp required help ; and thus 
wished to tell the crows his joy. The fact is, there is a " ful- 
ness of heart," which must speak, and yet cannot speak fast 
enough, nor loud enough. 

Bunyan wanted to relieve his heart at this time, by writing 
also. " T said in my soul — with much gladness — Well, would 
I had a pen and ink here, I would write this down before I go 
• 9^= 



102 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

any further." Happy wish, for us and the world ! It was the 
germ of his authorship. Critics differ about the real germ 
of his Pilgrim : but the incapacity of the Crows to understand 
him, originated his love to the pen. This was as happy an 
accident as the fall of the apple which, it is said, suggested to 
Newton, the doctrine of Gravitation. Theology owes as 
much to John Bunyan's pen, as Astronomy to Newton's, His 
Pilgrim, although it added nothing to the stock of theological 
knowledge, softened some of its harsh points, and simplified 
not a few of its mysticisms ; and what is far better, — it has 
prepared millions of minds to understand sound divinity. But 
for it, how many would have had no taste at all for reading 
either Theology or Scripture ? " It will continue," says 
Montgomery, " to be a Book exercising more influence over 
minds of every class, than the most refined and sublime genius, 
with all the advantages of education and good fortune, has !>eeB 
able to rival, in this respeet.^" 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. lOa 



CHAPTER X. 

bunyan's temptations. 

We come now to that mysterious period in the history of 
Bunyan, concerning which Philosophy must be silent, or say 
with Religion, "he was led into the wilderness to be tempted 
of the Devil." To say any thing else or less would be, as we 
have partly seen, unphilosophical and impertinent. 

Philosophy can afford to lose from her ranks, all the " brisk 
talkers" about the Principle of Moral Evil, as Bunyan would 
have called the anti-supernaturalists ; especially, as the best 
of them will not be lost to Literature. Some of them own, as 
Poets, the Satan they deny as theologians ; and thus prove that 
their craft cannot dispense with him, however their creed 
discard him. For, what if Poetry deal in fiction ? She has 
never been able, in all her dealings with it, to invent a more 
plausible or pliable agency, than that of Satan, in order to 
explain the vices or violence of her daring characters. She 
was glad to speak common sense in common terms, when she 
had to disown the Byron School. She could not have pillor. 
led it or its founder, before the Church or the world, had she 
not uttered those woixis of truth and soberness, " The Satan- 
ic School." The hearts of all wise and good men respond- 
ed at once to this descriptive epithet. It will be everlasting, 
just because it is " the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but 
the truth." 

It will readily occur to, or be allowed by, every thinking 
man, that if there be a Devil, John Bunyan was just the per- 
son he was likely to " sift as wheat." It was worth his while 
to keep him out of the Church of Christ, if he could. It 
required no great sagacity to foresee, that such a man would 
be " a host in himself," whatever side he might espouse in the 
contest between Truth and Error. Bunyan could be nothino- 
by halves. Besides, whatever he was or wished to be, he 
could not conceal it. Out it came, — by day or by night ! 
He both thought and dreamt aloud. He talked to himself 
whenever he was alone, and had dreamt of Satan and his 



104 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

angels from his youth up. Satan had thus no great difficulty 
to find out either the talents or the taste of Bunyan. He had 
not to " consider" him, half so long as he studied Job, before 
hitting upon the likeliest method of betraying him. He saw 
his weak side at a glance, and poured " fiery darts" into it 
without delay. 

Thus it is not necessary to ascribe to Satan any improba- 
ble degree of intuition or influence, in order to account for his 
attempts upon Bunyan. A duller eye than the devil's might 
have foreseen, that the genius of John Bunyan, if once under 
the power of Divine Truth, would do more for that Truth, 
than even the Harp of John Milton. Accordingly, Satan was 
more afraid of the Tinker than of the poet. He let Milton 
alone ; but came in like a flood upon Bunyan ; well knowing 
that a real Allegorist was more dangerous to the kingdom 
of darkness, than even the Prince of epic poetry ; and that 
the Apollyon of the Pilgrim, would awe more than the Lucifer 
of the Paradise Lost. I do not mean, of course, that Satan 
anticipated either picture of himself; but that he could easily 
guess how the two artists would paint him, and thus calculate 
their comparative influence upon his own power in the 
world. 

It may be unusual to speak in this straightforward way 
about Satan : but thus he should be spoken of if we would 
think of him, or resist him, as the Scriptures teach. There is 
neither extravagance nor levity in their descriptions of the 
Tempter. I have studied and written the Life of Bunyan, 
chiefly in order to prove this. And if I allow myself to be 
somewhat flayful occasionally, it is only because mere theo- 
logy on this subject would not gain a hearing with many at 
present. 

Bunyan himself had no doubts about the reality of Satanic 
agency, in his own case. How could he, after suffering even 
what we have already seen ? And that is nothing compared 
with what we have now to contemplate. I have shown, that 
I am not inclined to ascribe to Satan too many of Bunyan's 
distractions. I have been, perhaps, over cautious hitherto : 
but now I must speak out, if I speak agreeably to the Oracles 
of God. 

Bunyan's comfort from the words, "My Love," did not last 
long. He did not calculate upon this. It was so strong 
when it " kindled in his spirit," that he exclaimed, " Surely I 



LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 105 

will not forget this — forty years hence." It went away, how- 
ever, " within less than forty days." This can hardly be 
wondered at. It gave place, however, to a storm, utterly un- 
accountable, apart f«om Satan. " In about the space of a 
month," he says, " a very great storm came down upon me, 
which handled me twenty times worse than all I had met with 
before. It came stealing upon me, now by one piece, and 
then by another. First, all my comfort was taken from 
me. Then, darkness seized upon me. After which, whole 
floods of blasphemous thoughts against God, Christ, and the 
Scriptures, were poured in upon my spirit, to my great confu- 
sion and astonishment." Thus he was taken by surprise: 
and Bunyan is too honest to be suspected of tampering with 
sin or speculation, when he does not say so. Indeed, he had 
been more than usually prudent, for him, in reasoning about 
the comfort, when it came, and whilst it lasted. When, lo, 
a storm of blasphemous thoughts burst upon him, stirring up 
questions, he says, " against the very being of a God, and of 
his only beloved Son, and whether there were in truth a God 
or Christ, and whether the Holy Scriptures were not rather a 
cunning story, than the pure Word of God." This was not 
all nor the worst. Happily we do not know the worst. He 
wisely concealed that, when he wrote his Life. " I may not, 
and dare not," he says, " utter, by neither word nor pen (even) 
at this time, other suggestions." 

Altogether, " they did," he adds, " make such a seizure upon 
my spirit, and did so overweigh my heart, both with their 
numbers, continuance, and flery force, that I felt as if there 
were nothing else but these within me from morning to night, 
and as though there could be room for nothing else. I also 
concluded, that God had given me up to them, to be carried 
away with them as by a mighty whirlwind." 

When Bunyan himself tried to account for the permission 
of this whirlwind of temptation, he ascribed it to his neglect 
of" a 50?/7i(Zsent from Heaven, as an alarm to awaken him to 
provide for a coming storm." The sound was, " Simon, Si- 
mon, behold Satan hath desired to have you." These words 
had probably been addressed to him originally by Gifford, or 
some pious friend, who foresaw that his sudden comfort was not 
likely to last either forty years or forty days, upon such a 
foundation as the isolated words, "My Love." This conjec- 
ture is not improbable : for the man who wanted to tell the 
crows his joy, was sure to tell his friends of it ; and they were 



106 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

equally sure to say, " Simon, Simon" when they heard Bunyan 
calculating that his heart could 

" Never lose 
The relish, all hisd.iys." 

But, like Peter, he was self-confident, and thus forgot who 
warned him. The warning itself, however, recurred to him 
when his joy began to abate. At first, it " sounded loud with- 
in him" only. In a little, it began to sound loud around him. 
" Once above all the rest," he says, " I turned my head over 
my shoulder ; thinking verily that some man behind me, half 
a mile, had called after me. And although that (Simon) was 
not my name, yet it jnade me suddenly look behind me, be- 
lieving that he who called so loud meant me." This made 
him " muse and wonder, what should be the reason of this 
Scripture, that at this rate, so often and so loud, should still be 
sounding and rattling in his ears." Indeed, he never forgot 
its loud voice, nor doubted its heavenly origin. He said scon 
after, " I did both see and feel that it was sent from Heaven to 
awaken me." Subsequently he said, " it came, as I have 
thought since, to have stirred me up to prayer and watchful- 
ness. It came to acquaint me, that a cloud and a storm were 
coming down upon me : but I understood it not." To his 
dying day he said, " Methinks I hear still, with what a loud 
voice these words, Simon, Simon, sounded inmine ears." Thus 
Dr. Southey was fully warranted to say of these sounds, " Real 
they were to him in the impression which they made, and in 
their lasting effect ; and even afterwards when his soul w^as at 
peace, he believed them, in cool and sober reflection, to have 
been more than natural." 

Was Bunyan right in this 1 I am inclined to take the very 
same view of it, as of the Vision at the play-ground. Recol- 
lected Truth was the basis of both ; a vivid imagination gave 
sensible forms to both ; but the timely suggestion of the truth 
itself belongs to the agency of the Holy Spirit, as a Remem- 
brancer. In both cases, it was neither unworthy of, nor un- 
like that Guide, to bring before the mind of a man who had so 
much of Peter's imprudence, the warning addressed to Peter 
by Christ. With thesounds, whether low or loud, as with the 
sights, Divine agency had no more to do, than it has when we 
hear voices during sleep. 

It is hardly necessary, however, to draw upon Dreams, in 
order to account for Bunyan's illusion ; for, who has not look- 




J©MM BlUHTAHo 




JU-l t^LXL^t <y^ C, 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 107 

ed behind suddenly, as if there had been some one calHng us 
by name ? In times of deep abstraction and reverie, amongst 
woods, waters, or solitary mountains, both the voices and 
echoes of Nature seem to 

** Syllable men's names," 

and almost to utter the thought which chiefly absorbs the mind. 
Let not Banyan be laughed at for hearing, " a voice, which 
others could not" have heard at his side. He had as much 
poetry in his soul, as the Poet who claimed this power ; and 
his " inward ear" was quite as acute, and more attentive. 

There was thus much in both his temperament and circum- 
stances at this time, to account for his thoughts becoming, as 
Dr. Southey well says, " vivid as realities, and affecting him 
more forcibly than impressions from the external world :" but 
there was nothing which accounts for blasphemies he durst not 
name, nor for atheistical reasonings he had never heard, read, 
or dreamt of before. He had, indeed, been a blasphemer, in 
the vulgar sense, in early life ; but now, he says, " I was 
bound in the wings of a Wind, that would carry me away, to 
holt out some horrible blasphemous thought or other, against 
God. I often found my mind suddenly put to it, to curse and 
swear, or to speak some grievous thing against God, or Christ 
his Son, and the Scriptures." Thus both railing and reason- 
ing forced themselves into his new blasphemies. He was 
only profane before ; but now he was inclined to be alternately 
an Infidel and an Atheist. 

All this would be somewhat unnatural., as to its degree, even 
in the case of a man who had been the companion of sceptics 
and scorners, or a reader of their books ; especially if these 
had not perverted his moral tastes, nor entangled him in guilty 
pursuits. Banyan, however, had never read such books, and 
he had no vicious habits. The only dangerous books he had 
read, up to this time, were Antinomian. It is, therefore, some- 
what difficult to account for even his reasonings against the 
authority of the Scriptures. He himself refers them to no 
human source ; but traces them all directly to Satan. " The 
Tempter," he says, " would much assault me with this, — 
<■ How can you tell but that the Turks had as good Scriptures 
to prove their Mahomet the Saviour, as we have to prove our 
Jesus V And, ' Could I think that so many ten thousands, in 
so many countries and kingdoms, should be without the know- 
ledge of the right way to heaven (if there were indeed a 



lt)8 LIFEOPBUNYAN. 

heaven) ; and that we only who live in a corner of the earth, 
should alone be blessed therewith? Every one doth think his 
own religion rightest ; Jews, Moors, and Pagans : and, how 
if all our faith, and Christ, and Scriptures, should be but a 
think-so too?' Sometimes I endeavoured to argue against 
these suggestions, and to set some of the sentences of blessed 
Paul against them : but, alas, I quickly felt, when I thus did, 
such arguings as these would return again upon me,- — Though 
we made so great a matter of Paul and of his words, yet how 
could I tell, but that in very deed, he being a subtle and cunning 
man, might have given himself up to deceive with strong delu- 
sions, and take pains and travel to undo and destroy his 
fellows?" 

All this is very hollow to us : but it must have been very 
plausible to Bunyan, and might have puzzled his Bedford 
friends, had he submitted the questions to them ; for it is not 
likely that even Gifford knew enough of the Koran or Maho- 
met, to unmask their pretensions. Bunyan, however, had he 
known them, would have seen through them at a glance, even 
at this stage of his distractions: and had he known that Ma- 
homet died of the poisoned lamb given him by the Jewess at 
Kheebar, and that the promise made to the Apostles of Christ 
(that none of them should die by poison) was literally fulfilled, 
it is easy to conceive, from Bunyan's temperament, what an 
effect this circumstantial evidence would have had upon his 
wonder-loving mind. The Viper at Malta would have rein- 
stated Paul's authority at once, with him, as well as reminded 
him of his own escape from the fangs of an adder. It was, 
however, well for him, that his faith found its anchorage again 
where it began, in the deep and sound moorings of Internal 
Evidence. 

Bunyan did not find this soon nor easily : for his faith had 
no helper on the stormy sea, where it was now driven of the 
wind and tossed. Indeed, he seems to have been afraid or 
ashamed to submit his sceptical doubts to any one; lest in 
uttering them, the horrid blasphemies which mingled with 
them, should holt out at the same time, in spite of him. 

It is painful to dwell upon this scene! I, indeed, would not 
do so, did not others as well as myself need to be stirred up to 
pray with the understanding and the heart, "Lead us not into 
Temptation, but deliver us from the Evil One;" o Trovi^poi. This 
Petition ought to be as fervent as it is frequent. Christ prayed 
thus for Peter, as well as taught us to pray so : a plain proof, 



L I F E O F B U N Y A N . 109 

that the danger is neither imaginary nor slight. It is, therefore, 
desirable to hold up the case of Bunyan, as a warning speci- 
men of the "great wrath," with which Satan can come down 
" for a season," when he knows his time to be but short. 
Why he is permitted to do so, need be no great mystery in 
a world where so many other trials are allowed to fall upon 
both mind and body. The agency is different in delirium and 
insanity; but the effects are much the same, in one sense. 
What Bunyan was tempted to do, many have done at the 
height of a fever. Malignant miasm has thus mystery about 
it, as well as the malignant spirit. 

It is impossible here, however, not to ask the question, was 
Bunyan really insane at all, at this time ? Now he himself 
says, " At times I thought I should be hereft of my wits" But 
this was his fear, only when " instead of lauding and magni- 
fying God and the Lamb, with others," he felt ready to curse 
them. This might well alarm any man for his wits, whilst it 
lasted, even if he had not, like Bunyan, a horror at blasphemy. 
Besides, he was perfectly conscious, that his spirit retained its 
''distaste for" these things; and that « there was something 
within him which refused to embrace them." Even when 
the temptation was upon him "with force," he ''often'' com- 
pared tiimself to a child, " whom some Gypsy hath by force 
taken up in her arms, and is carrying from friend and coun- 
try." He also made great efforts* to get out of the wings of 
the wind, which was carrying him away. Hence he says in 
his own style, " Kick sometimes, I did ; and also shriek and 
cry." « These things did not make me slack my crying." 
Thus he was what Dr. Southey truly says, " collected enough, 
even in the paroxysms of the disease to observe its symptoms. 
He noted fiiithfully all that occurred in his reveries, and faith- 
fully reported it." Conder also has well said, in reference to 
this point, " There are diseased conditions of the frame, not 
amounting to insanity, in which the imagination is distem- 
pered, but there is no'delirium ; in which unreasonable ideas 
have hold of the mind, but there is no eclipse of the controlling 
judgment : there are involuntary impressions, but no involun- 
tary decisions. Such conditions, how nearly soever they ap- 
proximate to insanity, are clearly distinct from it.''— Memoir. 

I gladly avail myself of the opinions of acute men ; but I 
much prefer the fact, that Bunyan himself reviewed his parox- 
ysms, without detecting or suspecting mental aberration ij^ 
them. He continued to the end of life to refer them to Satan ; 

10 



110 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

but he never concluded that he had heen " bereft of his wits," 
although he feared the loss of them at this time. No wonder 
he was afraid. This temptation lasted nearly " a year." 
" In these days," he says, " when I heard others talk of what 
was the Sin against the Holy Ghost, — then would the Temp- 
ter so provoke me to desire to sin that sin, that I was as if I 
could not — must not- — neither should be quiet, until I had com- 
mitted it. Now no sin would serve — but that ! If it were 
to be committed by speaking of such a word (a certain word,) 
then I have been as if my mouth would have spoken that word, 
whether I would or no. In so strange a measure was this 
temptation upon me, that often I have been ready to clap my 
hands under my chin, to hold my mouth from opening. To 
that end also, I have had thoughts at other times, to leap with 
my head downward, into some muck-hole, to keep my mouth 
from speaking." 

This far exceeds any thing of the kind we know of. The 
wonder is, however, that it went no further, and took no darker 
form. Had it been insanity, it would have done so. We 
have thus a remarkable proof of the truth of that promise, that 
God will not suffer them who fear him, " to be tempted above 
what they are able to bear." Bunyan bore far more than we 
could have expected ; judging from what we have hitherto 
known of him. We have not seen, however, the heavy end of 
his"* iron yoke yet. " Again," he says, " I beheld the condi- 
tion of the dog and toad, and counted the state of every thing 
God had made, far better than this dreadful state of mine. 
Yea, gladly would I have been in the condition of a dog or a 
horse ; for I knew they had no soul to perish under the ever- 
lasting weight of hell or sin, as mine was like to do. Nay, 
and though I saw this — felt this — and was broken to pieces 
with it, yet that which added to my sorrow was, that I could 
not find that with all my soul I did desire deliverance from it. 
That Scripture also did tear and rend my soul, in the midst 
of my distractions, 'The wicked are like the troubled sea, whose 
waters cast forth mire and dirt. There is no peace to the 
wicked, saith my God.' 

" And now my heart was, at times, exceeding hard. If I 
would have given a thousand pounds for a tear, I could not 
shed one. No, nor sometimes scarce desire to shed one. I 
was much dejected, to think that this should be my lot. I saw 
8(ome could mourn and lament their sin ; and others again, 
could rejoice and bless God for Christ ; and others again, could 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. Ill 

quietly talk of, and with gladness remember, the Word of God ; 
— while I only was in the tempest ! This much sunk me. I 
thought my condition was alone. I would, therefore, much be- 
wail my hard hap : but get out of, or rid of, these things, I 
could not." 

As might be expected, these things hindered him much in 
prayer. Indeed, the wonder is, that he could pray at all, 
amidst such distractions. And there were moments, " when 
the noise, strength, and force of these temptations, would 
drown, and overflow, and bury all thoughts and remembrance 
of such a thing." This made him think, " Surely now, I am 
possessed of the devil. I thought also of Saul, and of the Evil 
Spirit that did possess him, and did greatly fear that my con- 
dition was the same with that of his." He did, however, pray 
even then, at times. Without intending it, he imitated the 
Saviour now and then, by praying " most earnestly," as his 
agony increased. We shall see this by and by. In the mean 
time, the general state of his mind, when he was upon his 
knees, requires notice. He felt sure that " Satan stood at his 
right hand to resist him." And certainly, Satan could hard- 
ly have resisted him more, had he been at his side. " I have 
thought," he says, " that I felt the devil behind me, pulling 
my clothes. He would also be continually at me in time of pray- 
er — to ' have done — make haste — break off; you have prayed 
enough: — siav no longer !' Sometimes also he would cast in 
such wicked thoughts as — that I must pray to him, or for him. 
I thought sometimes of that, — ' fall down ; or 'if thou wilt, 
fall down and worship me.' Matt. iv. 9. 

" Also when (because I have had wandering thoughts in the 
time of this duty) I have laboured to compose my mind, and 
fix it upon God, then with great force hath the tempter laboured 
to distract me, and confound me, and to turn away my mind, 
by presenting to my heart and fancy the /orw of a bush, a bull, 
a besom, or the like, as if I should pray to these. To these, 
especially at some times, he would so hold my mind, that I 
was as if I could think of nothing else, or pray to nothing but 
these, or such as they." There is nothing in all " the shap- 
ings " of his imagination, so like delirium as this. It was not, 
however, delirium ; for it was preceded by deliberate efforts to 
be composed, and accompanied with grief and shame, and often 
. interrupted with strong cryings and tears to God for deliver- 
ance. Accordingly he says, " Yet at times, I should have 
some strong and heart-affecting apprehensions of God, and the 



112 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

reality of the truth of his Gospel. And, oh, how would mj 
heart, at such times, \iut forth itself with inexpressible groan- 
ings ! My whole soul was then in every word. I would cry 
with pangs after God, that he would be merciful unto me." 
Thus, as Conder well says, " there was no eclipse of the con- 
trolling judgment." There were, however, what Bunyan 
himself calls, ^^ conceits, ^^ followed this. Hence he adds, "But 
then I should be daunted again with such conceits as these ; — 
that God did mock at my prayers ; saying, in the audience of 
holy angels, ' this poor simple wretch doth hmiker after me, 
as if I had nothing to do with my mercy but to bestow it 
upon him. Alas, poor soul, how art thou deceived ! It is not 
for thee, to have favour with the Highest !' " 

David and Asaph, Job and Jeremiah, as well as John Bun- 
yan, thought thus at times. It was, however, only a passing 
thought. It not only did not stop his praying, but made hint 
pray so fervently, that Satan, he says, told " me, you are very 
hot for mercy, but I will cool you. This frame shall not last 
always. Many have been as hot as you for a spirt ; but I 
have quenched their zeal. And with this, such and such 
(persons) who were fallen off, would be set before my eyes. 
(The devilish Ranter, of course, was one of them.) But, 
thought I, ' I am glad this comes into my mind. Well, I will 
watch, and take what care I can.'- — 'I shall be too hard for 
you,' said Satan, ' I will cool you insensibly by degrees ; by 
little and little. What care I (saith he) though I be seven 
5^ears in chilling your heart, if I can do it at last ? Continual 
rocking will lull a crying child asleep. I will ply close, but I 
will have my end accomplished. Though you be burning hot 
at present, I can pull you from this fire. 1 shall have you cold 
before it be long.' " Satan's speeches in Milton's Paradise 
Lost, are not more in keeping with his revealed character,, 
than this speech. It indicates as much sound judgment of the 
Tempter, as any soliloquy or address Milton has put into his 
lips. It is just what Satan would have said, had he spoken to 
Bunyan. However much, therefore, Bunyan mistook him, 
when he suspected him of " pulling at his clothes,''^ he neither 
exaggerated nor underrated him, when he ascribed those 
" cruel mockings " to him. It is delightful to trace the pure 
and strong sense which marks this vivid sketch of the depths, 
wiles, and malignity of Satan ! 

One of the effects of this temptation was, that, while it last- 
ed, he could attend " upon none of the ordinances of God, but 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 113 

with sore and great affliction." His account of this is very 
touching. " Yea, then, I was most distressed with blasphe- 
mies. If hearing the Word, vileness, blasphemy and despair 
would hold me a captive there. If reading, then I had sudden 
thoughts to question all I read. Sometimes again, my mind 
would be so strangely snatched away, and possessed with other 
things, that I have neither known, nor regarded, nor remem- 
bered, so much as the sentence I had but just read." Thus, 
" Satan stood at his right hand to resist him." 

Bunyan was not, however, without some alleviations during 
this sad year. " I had," he says, " some supports in this temp- 
tation, though they were all questioned by me then. That, in 
Jeremiah, was something to me — that though we had spoken 
and done evil things as we could, yet we should cry unto God, 
' My Father, thou art the guide of my youth,' and return unto 
him." Thus, although God suffered him to be tempted, he did 
not suffer him to be tempted above what he was able to bear. 
We shall find this promise verified, even when temptation 
went f^ir beyond all we have yet reviewed. 

I have often thought, whilst analyzing and recording these 
strange and startling temptations, that I durst not have pub- 
lished them, had I alone been possessed of Bunyan's autobio- 
graphy. It is, however, in the hands of thousands, and will 
never pass out of print ; and, therefore, I pass by nothing it 
contains. Besides, his high and holy character is sufficiently 
known to all readers, by his Pilgrim : so that there is no dan- 
ger of sinking him, or of injuring religion, by any disclosure 
of his woes and weakness, however full, minute, or familiar it 
may be. The recollection, that he wrote the Pilgrim's Pro- 
GREss, corrects or counterbalances all unfavourable impres- 
sions. 



10* 



114 LIFE OF BUNYAN 



CHAPTER XI. 



buntan's revivals. 



After remaining a whole year in such a wilderness of temp- 
tation, Bunyan may well be expected and allowed to give strong 
names to both the Grace and Providence, which kept him from 
sinking under his heavy burden, and which now began to 
lighten and unloose it. His first relief was very timely. He 
had begun to be afraid of lo7ig life, lest it should wear out all 
his " remembrance of the evil of sin, the worth of heaven, and 
his need of the blood of Christ." Time seemed to him, set 
upon spunging all this " out of both mind and thought." But 
he could not bear the idea of outliving his recollections, or his 
estimates, of the things which belonged to his eternal peace. 
The fear of this put him upon crying, louder than ever, for 
help from God. And, as might be expected, he found " help in 
time of need." 

He was more wise than usual in selecting an inscription for 
his first Ebenezer, when he came up from the wilderness. It 
was this, " I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor 
angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor 
things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, 
shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in 
Christ Jesus our Lord." Rom. viii. 39. " This was a good 
word to me," he says, « after I had suffered (from) these 
things." 

If I understand his meaning aright here, it explains the un- 
questioning ease and readiness with which he applied this 
" strong consolation" to himself. Had he not suffered much, 
his first work with this text would have been to make a rack 
of it, upon which he would have tortured himself with the 
questions — does God love me ? how can that be ? He had^ 
however, just been assailed, as he thought and felt, by all the 
things which threaten to " separate from the love of God :" 
and thus he ventured to conclude, that such an onset would 
not have been made upon him, had he been hated or given up 
of God. Besides, after long and deep suffering, the mind is 
glad to take up with a suitable promise, without nicely criti- 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 115 

cizing its own warrant to appropriate the comfort. The com- 
fort is wanted in such cases ; and therefore it is wisdom to 
take it, " nothing doubting." Had Bunyan done so from the 
first, he might have escaped many of his pangs. It must not 
be supposed, however, that he made the most of this promise 
now, much as he needed it. He inscribed it at full length 
upon his Ebenezer of gratitude : but all the comfort he ven- 
tured to take from it was — " Now I hoped long life would not 
destroy me, nor make me miss heaven." Any other comfort 
he had at this time, was drawn from other sources, and but 
very evanescent. He raised, indeed, many Ebenezers, only 
to throw them down again. 

But although still somewhat capricious, Bunyan was now a 
wiser man than we have hitherto found him. We shall now 
find him oftenest, not in the dark ravines of " secret things," 
nor upon the giddy heights of typical conjecture, but upon 
the broad and level tahle-land of the Gospel. The fact is, his 
fears of blasphemy and reprobation had taken such awful 
forms, that not alfhis power of allegorizing, or of spiritualizing 
typical and historical truth, could extract one hope or comfort 
from it. Perhaps, too, his power itself was paralyzed for the 
time, by his terrors. But, be this as it may, he now became 
a student of the New Testament ; — in the sense of looking 
there chiefly for promises suited to his case. As usual, how- 
ever, he looked, at first, in order to be electrified as well as 
enlightened. He had not patience to trace out the connexion 
or bearings of the great and precious promises. If a great 
truth did not strike him powerfully at the first glance, he would 
not study it. What it contained, was nothing to him, unless 
it flashed' out upon him. Accordingly, his first comforts were 
rather momentary gleams of hope, and sudden glows of joy, 
than assurances of the understanding. He himself says of 
them, that they were " like to Peter's sheet ; of a sudden 
caught up again to heaven." Acts, x. 16. 

Some of these " sweet hints, touches, and short visits," as 
he calls them, were, however, very useful to him. The first 
was, happily, from that memorable oracle, " For He hath made 
him to be sin for us, who knew no sin ; that we might be made 
the righteousness of God in him." 2 Cor, v. 12. " I had 
once," he says, " a sweet glance from that." He might have 
had many, had he looked at it with a set gaze. Even the 
glance, however, prepared him to lay hold, at an emergency, 
upon another great truth. « I remember," he says, " that one 



116 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

day as I was sitting in a neighbour's house, and there very sad 
at the consideration of my many blasphemies ; and as I was 
saying in my mind, — ' What ground have I to think that I, 
who have been so vile and abominable, should ever inherit 
Eternal Life V — that word came suddenly upon me, ' If God 
be for us, who can be against us V Rom. viii. 39. That 
also was a help to me, — ' Because I live, ye shall live also.' 
John, xiv. 10. 

Bunyan appears to have been much at home, during the 
year of his " fiery trial :" but when his hopes, and thus his 
spirits, began to revive, he took up his Kit again, and went 
his usual rounds, as a Tinker. This was advantageous to 
his health. He now mused, however, more than he talked, 
wherever he went. If not a sad, he was now a very solemn 
man. The Ranters saw this, and shrunk from his searching 
eye. These " Sweet Singers," as they called themselves, 
who combined only the sins of David with the songs of David, 
durst not vapour in Bunyan's presence as formerly. The 
Quakers, however, were attracted by his 

" Leaden eye, 
Which loved the ground," 

and by his deep solemnity. They sounded, if not assailed 
him, upon their favourite points : but he answered them not a 
word, at this time. He listened to them, however : and, at a 
future day, proved to them, that he remembered what they 
said : for he gathered now, that knowledge of their Tenets, 
which led him to write his " Gospel Truths Opened :" just as 
he picked up at Naseby, unconsciously, the plan of his Holy 
War. 

One of his travelling days at this time, was such " a good 
day" to him, that he never forgot it, although he soon lost the 
comfort of it. " I was musing in the country," he says, " on 
the wickedness and blasphemy of my heart, and considering 
the enmity that was in me to God, when that Scripture came 
into my mind, — ' He hath made peace by the Blood of his 
cross.' Col. i. 20. By this, I was made to see, both ngain 
and again, that God and my soul were friends, by His blood. 
Yea, I saw that the Justice of God, and my sinful soul, could 
embrace and kiss each other through His blood. This was a 
good day to me. I hope I shall never forget it." No wonder, 
he returned home a happier man than he went out ! This 
one discovery of the new and living way of acceptance with 



LIFE OF BUN YAN. 117 

God, was worth more than all his other glimpses of the Gos- 
pel put together. He now saw " the glory of God in the face 
of Jesus," and understood how God could " be just, even in jus- 
tifying the ungodly." 

But although relieved from despair, Bunyan was not free 
from anxiety. On his return home, his mind dwelt much upon 
the fear of death, and the power of the devil. One day he sat 
musing upon them at his own fireside, until he made himself 
absolutely wretched. But he mused now, with the New Tes- 
tament in his hand : — holding it, I grant, and regret, more as 
a Talisman than a lamp ; as a charm, than a guide ; but still, 
looking nowhere else for relief. On this occasion, his eye 
lighted upon the right spot. It fell upon the words, " For as 
much as the children were partakers of flesh and blood. He 
also himself took part of the same, that through death. He 
might destroy him that had the power of death (that is the 
devil,) and deliver those who through fear of death were all 
their life-time subject to bondage." Heb. ii. 14, 15. These 
words were at once " precious and overpowering" to him, 
« I thought," he says, " that the glory of these words was so 
weighty on me, that I was both once and twice ready to swoon 
as I sat : yet not with grief and trouble ; but with solid joy 
and peace." 

He now began to find composure and profit in the House 
of God, and " under the ministry of holy Mr. Gifford." " To 
his doctrine," says Dr. Southey, " he ascribed in some degree 
his convalescence." "But that doctrine," he adds, "was of 
a most perilous kind." What do you suppose it was, judging 
from this denunciation ? Why, " the preacher exhorted his 
hearers not to be contented with taking any thing upon trust, 
nor to rest until they had received it with evidence from 
heaven : — that is, till their belief should be confirmed by a par- 
ticular revelation ! Without this, he warned them, they 
would find themselves wanting in strength when temptation 
came." — Southei/s Bunyan, p. 28. 

This is nearly, but not exactly, Bunyan's account of Gif^ 
ford's doctrine. He says of him, "He would bid us take 
special heed, that we took not up any truth upon trust, — as 
from this, that, or any other man; but cry mightily unto 
God, that he would convince us of the reality thereof, and set 
us down therein, by his own Spirit, in the Holy Word : for, 
said he, if you do otherwise, when temptations come strongly 
upon you, — you, not having received the Truths with evidence 



118 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

from heaven, will find you want that help and strength to re- 
sist, which you once thought you had." 

This doctrine, Bunyan " drank in " as rain or dew. The 
fact is, it held then, and it holds now, the same place in the 
creed and cravings of pious minds, that the awen or inspira- 
tion of poetry holds in the estimation of poets. They know 
well, and iew hetter than Dr. Southey, the immense difference 
between vague and vivid, tame and touching, views of Man 
and Nature. The Laureate has looked as often and intently 
from the summit of Skiddaw or Helvellyn, and from the ter- 
race of Lattrigg or Lodore, and from the bosom of Derwent- 
water and Rydal, for original views and emotions, as ever the 
Tinker looked to the Bible, the Sanctuary, or the Closet, for 
experimental and impressive views of Divine truth. Bunyan 
knew the difference between ^eZi and unfelt Truth, in religion, 
just as well as Southey knows it in poetry. It will, therefore, 
be quite time enough to blame Gifford, and to pity Bunyan, 
for their solicitude about the witness of the Holy Spirit to give 
truth i\ie force of truth, when Poets call their inspiration, "a 
most perilous doctrine." Till then, we may take for granted 
that there is no more danger in looking for experimental seals 
to the volume of Revelation, than in looking for new beauties 
or glories in the volume of Nature. There would be but little 
poetry in the world, if Nature were contemplated as slightly 
by her professed admirers, as Revelation is by the bulk of its 
possessors : and there would be no commanding piety in the 
Church, were there not Christians, who, like Bunyan, seek 
the seals of the Spirit. 

Bunyan is not the man, however, at this stage of his char- 
acter and history, upon whom it would be wise or safe to hang 
the vindication of this great and cardinal truth. Nothing is 
more true, than that the Holy Spirit manifests the things of 
Christ to devotional minds, with power and glory, from time 
to time : but, on the other hand, it is not true that Bunyan 
could distinguish well, at this time, between accident and unc- 
tion, or natural and spiritual demonstration. He hit, however, 
not very wide of the mark, when he gave the following illus- 
trations of his own experience, under the ministry of Gifford. 
His doctrine, he says, " was as seasonable to my soul as the 
former and latter rain in their season ; for I had found, and 
that by sad experience, the truth of these his words ; (for I 
had felt that no man can say, especially when tempted by the 
devil, that Jesus Christ is Lord, but by the Holy Ghost.) 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 



119 



Wherefore I found my soul, through grace, very apt to drink 
in this doctrine, and to incline to pray to God, that in nothing 
that pertained to God's glory, and my own eternal happiness, 
he would suffer me to be without the confirmation thereof 
from heaven ; for now I saw clearly, there was an exceeding 
difference betwixt the notion of the flesh and blood, and the 
revelation of God in heaven : Also a great difference betwixt 
that faith which is feigned and according to man's wisdom, 
and that which comes by a man's being born thereto of God. 
Blessed art thou, Simon Barjona ; for flesh and blood hath not 
revealed it unto thee, but my Father which is in heaven. 
Whosoever believeth that Jesus is the Christ is born of God! 
But, oh ! now, how was my soul led from truth to truth by 
God ! Even from the birth and cradle of the Son of God to 
his ascension, and second coming from heaven to judge the 
world. 

" Truly, I then found, upon this account, the great God 
was very good unto me ; for, to my remembrance, there was 
not any thing that I then cried unto God to make known, and 
reveal unto me, but he was pleased to do it for me ; I mean, not 
one part of the gospel of the Lord Jesus, but I was orderly led 
into it : methought I saw with great evidence, from the four 
Evangelists, the wonderful works of God, in givino- Jesus 
Christ to save us, from his conception and birth, even to his 
second coming to judgment : Methought I was as if I had 
seen him born, as if I had seen him grow up ; as if I had 
seen him walk through this world, from the cradle to the cross • 
to which also, when he came, I saw how gently he gave him' 
self to be hanged and nailed on it for my sins and wicked 
doing. Also as I was musing on this his progress, that 
dropped on my spirit. He was ordained for the slaughter. 
Thus, searching what or what manner of time the Sjnrit of 
Christ did signify. — Who verily was fore-ordained before the 
foundation of the world. 

« When I have considered also, the truth of his resurrec- 
tion, and have remembered that word, ' Touch me not, Mary,^ 
&c., I have seen as if he had leaped out of the grave's mouth, 
for joy that he was risen again, and had got the conquest over 
our dreadful foes, saying, / ascend unto my Father, and your 
Father; and to my God, and to your God. I have also, in the 
spirit, seen him a man, on the right hand of God the Father 
for me ; and have seen the manner of his coming from heaven, 
to judge the world with glory, and have been confirmed in 



120 LliFEOFBtJNYAK. 

these things by these Scriptures ; ' And when he had spoken 
these things, while they beheld he was taken up ; and a cloud 
received him out of the.ir sight.' — 'But he being full of the 
Holy Ghost, looked up steadfastly into heaven and saw the 
glory of God, and Jesus standing on the right hand of God, 
and said, ' Behold, I see heaven opened, and the Son of Man 
standing on the right hand of God.' — 'And he commanded 
us to preach unto the people, and to testify that it is he which 
was ordained of God to be the judge of quick and dead.' — 
* But this man because he continueth for evei* hath an 
unchangeable priesthood.' — ' Christ was once offered to bear 
the sins of many, and to them that look for him shall he appear 
the second time without sin unto salvation.' — ' I am he that 
liveth and was dead, and behold I am alive for evermore, 
Amen ; and have the keys of hell and of death.' — 'For the 
Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with 
the voice of the archangel and the trump of God, and the dead 
in Christ shall rise first. Then we which are alive and 
remain shall be caught up together with the Lord, in the air : 
and so shall we ever be with the Lord. Wherefore comfort 
ye one another with these words.' 

"Once I was troubled to know whetherthe Lord Jesus was 
man as well as God, and God as well as man : And truly ; in 
those days let men say what they would, unless I had it with 
evidence from heaven, all was nothing to me ; I counted 
myself not set down in any truth of God. Well, I was much 
troubled about this point, and could not tell how to be resolved ; 
at last, that came into my mind, ' And I beheld, and lo, in the 
midst of the throne, and of the four beasts, and in the midst of 
the elders, stood a Lamb, as it had been slain.' In the midst 
of the throne, thought I, there is the Godhead'; in the midst 
of the elders, there is his Manhood. But, oh! methought, 
how this did glister ! It was a goodly touch, and gave me 
sweet satisfaction. That other scripture also did help me 
much in this ; ' To us a child is born, to us a Son is given, 
and the government shall be upon his shoulders : and his name 
shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, the Mighty God, the 
Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace.' " 

Having given these illustrations of what he meant by " Evi- 
dence from heaven," and by " God revealing the things of 
Christ" to him, Bunyan concludes thus, — " It would be too 
long here to stay to tell you in particular, how God did set 
joae down (settle me) in the things of Christ ; and how, that 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 121 

He might do so, he did lead me into his words ; yea, and how 
also he did open them unto me, and make them shine before 
me, and cause to dwell with me — talk with me — comfort me 
over and over, as to His own being, and the being of His 
Son, and Spirit, and Word, and Gospel. And this, in gene- 
ral, was His course with m.e ; first, to suffer me to be afflicted 
with temptations concerning (the truth or grace of) them, 
and then reveal them unto me." 

The doctrine which led Bunyan to seek and find all this, 
was, says Dr. Southey, " of a most penVot/^r kind." So far, 
however, it has done Bunyan no harm. Even his " revela- 
tions," as he calls them, never go beyond Revelation itself. 
He himself knew this, and said so. God, he says, " led him 
into His own Word ; led him from truth to truth ; led him 
orderly into the Gospel of the Lord, not into one part of it" 
only. It is, therefore, self-evident, that all Bunyan meant by 
what Dr. Southey calls " a particular revelation" was a clear 
apprehension of the grace and glory of the Gospel itself, with 
a deep feeling of its importance. Now, whatever name may 
be given to this kind of knowledge, it is that knowledge of the 
Gospel which a thinking man would surely prefer, if he want- 
ed either peace or hope from the belief of it. It is vivid, cer- 
tainly, but it is not visionary. 

It may, however, be safely, and it ought to be readily, grant- 
ed, that Bunyan is not a safe standard to try experimental 
knowledge by. The vivacity of his mind increased the 
vividness of his spiritual discernment. Not one mind in a 
thousand could have darted, as his did, as with eagle-wings and 
eagle-eyes, from the Cradle to the Cross of the Saviour, real- 
izing every scene, as if an actual witness of the sufferings and 
glory of Christ. This no more belongs to divine teaching 
necessarily, than does the power of inventing the Pilgrim*3 
Progress, or of depicting the Holy War. I admire Bunyan, 
but I do not envy him at all, when he says of his realizations 
of the Saviour's cradle, cross and grave, " I was as if I had 
»een Him born — as if I had seen him nailed to the cross — 
as if I had seen Him leap out of the grave's mouth." My 
mind does not reflect " the manifestation of the Truth," in 
this way. Bunyan's reflected it, as seas or snow-clad moun- 
tains do sun-light ; in floods and forms of ^\ov\ : mine, only 
as a dew-drop or a pebble. But still, the Truth is both light 
and warmth to me. I love it and obey it. I should, therefore, 
be very unwise and ungrateful, were I to bring my own expe- 

11 



122 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

Tience to the test of Bunyan's entrancing discoveries. That 
test might be very useful to Poets; but it could only unchris- 
tianize plain men like myself, or divert us from thought, pray- 
,^r, and action, to sentimentality or excitement. 
. It would go hard with the hopes of many besides myself, 
;were the following record, the rule in divine teaching. " I 
had now," says Bunyan, " as I thought, an evidence from 
Heaven of my salvation — with many golden seals thereon, all 
hanging in my sight. Now I would often long and desire 
that the Last Day were come, that I might be forever inflam- 
ed with the sight, and joy, and communion with Him — whose 
Head was crowned with thorns ; whose Face was spit upon ; 
whose Body was broken ; whose Soul was made an offering 
for my sins! For whereas before I lay continually trembling 
at the mouth of Hell, — now, methought, I was got so far there- 
from, that I could scarce discern it, when I loooked back. O, 
thought I, that I were fourscore years old now, that I might 
die quickly, and my soul be gone forever !" Bunyan had 
read, marked, and inwardly digested Luthjkr on the Gala- 
tians, before he saw thus clearly his way and welcome, by 
the Cross, to the Crown. The old Saxon's seals helped him 
to read the inscriptions upon his own. But still, this transi- 
tion " from darkness into marvellous light," is as worthy of 
being traced to the illumination of the Holy Spirit, as Luther's 
own joy and peace in believing. " God, who commanded the 
light to shine out of darkness, did shine into Bunyan's heart, 
giving him the light by the knowledge of the Divine Glory in 
the face of Jesus :" but it is. equally true, that God does not 
always shed such a flood of light upon the mind at once. It 
is not necessary in every case. It could not be well sustain- 
ed, perhaps, in many cases. Besides, until Gifford and 
liuther led Bunyan to a prayerful and orderly study of the 
Scriptures, he was a very ignorant man. He had scraps of 
:truth at his finger ends, but no digest of its evidences or 
analogy in his memory. He saw ih^ fringes of its glory, but 
not the foundations of its grace. The perception of its 
connexions and harmony was, therefore, to him, almost what 
a prophetic vision would be to a well-informed man. 

It should be forever remembered also, where Bunyan studied 
3Luther and the Bible at this time. It was alternately in the 
tarns where he slept on straw, and under the lonely trees where 
^e rested himself. He " watched for the morning," upon a bed 
which had no attractions, when he awoke from his first sleep. 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 123 

Even the Sluggard would hardly have turned himself to slum- 
ber acrain amonorst the sackinoj and litter of a Tinker's couch. 
For although Bunyan was now an honest man, and known as 
such in his rounds, the ham was his only dormitory, and the 
corncloth his only counterpane, and his own wallet stuffed 
with his clothes, or a corn-sheaf, his only pillow. He rarely 
knew the luxury of a blanket, or even of a chaff bolster. It 
was from such couches he arose with the sun, to search the 
Scriptures, and to ponder Luther's paradoxes, whilst all 
nature was cool, and calm, and bright, around him. In like 
manner, when he rested during the heat of the day, under the 
trees or the hedges, all his cares at this time only sent him to 
the Bible, whilst all his tastes enjoyed the scenery and the 
solitude. 

Much of the vividness of his conceptions arose from these 
circumstances. And then he had just suffered so much at home, 
whilst brooding in silence over dark and daring thoughts, that 
both Nature and Revelation were almost new to him, when he 
resumed his communion with them in his old rounds. Thus, 
there is no occasion to stumble or stare at what Bunyan calls 
his revelations. They were nothing but new discoveries 
of old truth, and " the savour of the knowledge of Christ." 
Unction and evidence met together upon his spirit ; — and 
even the French expect unction to accompany belief. 

It is only what we expect, when mathematical Philosophers, 
now that few of them are Newtons, sneer and snarl at the 
awen of moral truth : but it is mortifying and unbearable, 
when Poets (whose 

" Fine eye, in frenzy rolling;,'* 

searches for the sublime and beautiful as for " hid treasure," 
in Nature) tell us gravely, that it is " perilous" to expect any 
thing from Revelation, brighter or better than the vague and 
vapid conceptions of eternal things, which occur to those who 
seldom think, and never pray. Christians should not, how- 
ever, avenge this outrage on truth and decency, by sneering 
at poetry. Still, Poets must not provoke us, nor try our 
patience too far. For if we make reprisals, — alas, for them ! 



124 LIFE OF BUN YAK. 



CHAPTER XII. 

BTJNYAN AND LUTHER. 

The influence of Luther on Bunyan has never been ftilly 
pointed out : indeed, hardly stated fairly. Even Dr. Southey, 
who estimated it well, mistakes its commencement. It was 
not, as he says, when Bunyan saw the evidence of his Salva- 
tion from Heaven, "with golden seals appendant," nor when 
he had " the gate of Heaven in full view," and was longing to 
" enjoy the beatific vision," that Luther's Commentary on 
the Galatians " fell into his hands." That book led to this 
state of mind, instead of cominor in to confirm it. Hence 
Bunyan says, " But before I had got thus far out of ray- 
Temptations, I did greatly long to see some antient godly 
man's experience, who had writ some hundred years before I 
was born. Well, after many such longings in my mind, the 
God in whose hands are all our days and ways, did cast into 
my hand one day, a book of Martin Luther's. It was his com- 
ment on the Galatians. It was also so old\, that it was ready to 
fall piece from piece if I did but turn it over. Now I was 
much pleased that such an old book had fallen into my hands. 
I found my condition as largely and profoundly handled, in 
his experience, as if his book had been written out of my heart, 
I do prefer this book of Martin Luther (excepting the Bible,) 
before all the books that ever I have seen, as most fit for a 
wounded conscience." 

Thus it was before the wounds of his own conscience were 
healed, and whilst he had not got far out of his temptations?, 
that Bunyan met with Luther. It was a happy meeting. " In 
the work of that passionate and mighty mind," says Dr. 
Southey, " he saw his own soul refiected as in a glass. Like 
Luther he had undergone the agonies of unbelief and deadly 
fear, and according to his own persuasion wrestled with the 
Enemy." Bunyan saw more than all this in the Saxon glass. 
What chiefly arrested and interested him was, the " grave 
debate, showing that the Law, as well as the devil, death, and 
hell, hath a very great hand in the rise of blasphemy, despair, 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 125 

and the like." This he had never dreamt of before. The 
Law had often slain all his hopes, and set more than his con- 
science on fire, by crossing his wishes ; but he had ascribed 
both the death of hope and the wrath of passion, to the direct 
influence of the devil. It was, therefore, startling as well as 
"very strange " to him at first, to be warned and adjured by 
Luther, not to look nor listen to the Law of God, when a sense 
of guilt was overwhelming the conscience, and sinking the 
heart in despair. He had to watch and ponder much, before 
he saw how the utter exclusion of Law from the question of 
pardon, could relieve the conscience from the fear of wrath, 
without relaxing the fear of sin or the love of holiness. And 
he was perfectly astounded to hear Luther almost thank the 
devil, for calling him ^'a great sinner." Luther says to Satan, 
" in telling me that I am a signer, thou givest me armour and 
weapons against thyself, that witli thine own sword I may cut 
thy throat, and tread thee under my feet ; — for Christ died for 
sinners. Thou (only) puttest me in mind of God's fatherly 
love towards me, and of the benefit of Christ, as often as thou 
objectest that I am a wretched and condemned sinner." To 
foil Satan thus, with his own weapons, was a new thing to 
Bunyan. But he was an apt scholar, and soon learned to say 
for himself, " The guilt of sin helped me much : for still as 
that would come upon me, the blood of Christ did take it ofT 
again, and again, and again." In regard to Law also, he was 
soon Lutheran enough to say, " In that conscience where, 
but just now, did reign and rage the law, even there would rest 
and abide the peace and love of God, through Christ." 

These are not the Lutheran maxims, which History 
records, and Poetry immortalizes, as the secret of the Refor- 
mation ; but these were the maxims which endeared Luther to 
the conscience of Europe. Robertson did not see this, nor 
even Villers understand it ; but Luther's doctrine of Justifica- 
tion by faith, and his defiance of Satan to condemn, mustered 
the best men of the millions who responded to him with accla- 
mations, when he threw the Canon Law and the Pope's Bull 
into the bonfire of Wittemberg, exclaiming, " Let eternal fire 
trouble thee, because thou hast troubled the Holy One of God." 
Bunyan is a proof of this. It was Luther's sympathy with 
uneasy consciences, and Luther's insight into the devices of 
Satan, and Luther's exhibition of a free salvation, which won 
his heart, and drew from his pen the declaration — that the 



126 LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 

work on the Galatians might hare been written out of his own 
heart. 

I give prominence to the influence of Luther upon Bunyan, 
because no one can suspect Bunyan of any approach to the 
enormity of " making void the Law by faith ;" and because 
it is becoming somewhat too fashionable to boggle at Luther's 
strong language, on the subject of justification by faith alone. 
Tiiere is, indeed, no necessity for using all the Saxonisms of the 
Saxon Reformer ; but English, which does not say that Law 
has nothing to do with justification, is, however polished, worse 
than vulgar, except when it says that the Law, like the Pro- 
phets, witnesses to the righteousness which is by faith. 

How well Bunyan understood Luthor, if not copied after 
him also, will be seen from the following remarks upon Paul's- 
doxology, " Now unto Him that is able to do exceeding abun- 
dantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power 
that worketh in us, unto him be glory in the church by Christ 
Jesus, throughout all ages, world without end. Amen." 
" What can be more plain 1 What can be more full? What can 
be more suitable to the most despoiiding spirit in any man 1 
God can do more than thou knowest he will. He can do more 
than thou thhikest he can. What dost thou think 1 Why, I 
think, saith the sinner, that I am cast away. Well, but there 
are worse thoughts than these, therefore think again. Why, 
saith the sinner, I think that my sins are as many as all the 
sins of the world. Indeed, this is a very black thought, but 
there are worse thoughts than this, therefore, prithee think 
again. Why, I think, saith the sinner, that God is not able 
to pardon all my sins. Ay, now thou hast thought indeed. 
For this thought makes thee look more like a devil than a man * 
and yet, because thou art a man, and not a devil, see the con- 
descension and the boundlessness of the love of thy God. He 
is able to do above all that we think. Couldst thou (sinner) 
if thou hadst been allowed, thyself express what thou wouldst 
have expressed, the greatness of the love thou wantest ; with 
words that could have suited thee better ? For it is not said,. 
he can do above what we think, meaning our thinking at pres- 
ent, but above all we can think ; meaning, above the worst 
and most soul dejecting thoughts, that we have at any time. 
Sometimes the dejected have worse thoughts than at other 
times they have. Well, take them at their worst times, at 
times when they think, and think till they think themselves 
down into the very pangs of hell, yet this word of the grace 



LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 127 

of God is above them, and shows that he can yet recover and 
save these miserable people. And now I am upon this sub- 
ject, I will a little further walk and travel with the desponding 
ones, and will put a few words in their mouths for their help 
against temptations that may come*[pon them hereafter. For 
as Satan follows such now, with charges and applications of 
guilt, so he may follow them with interrogatories and appeals ; 
for he can tell how by appeals, as well as by charging of sin, 
to sink and drown the sinner whose soul he has leave to 
engage. Suppose, therefore, that some distressed man or 
woman should after this way be engaged, and Satan should 
with his interrogatories and appeals be busy with them, to 
drive them to desperation, the text last mentioned, to say no- 
thing of the subject of our discourse, yields plenty of help for 
the relief of such a one. Says Satan, Dost thou not know 
that thou hast horribly sinned? Yes, says the soul, I do. 
Says Satan, Dost thou not know that thou art one of the vilest 
in all the pack of professors ? Yes, says the soul, I do. Says 
Satan, Doth not thy conscience tell thee that thou art and hast 
been more base than any of thy fellows can imagine thee to 
be ? Yes, says the soul, my conscience tells me so. Well, 
saith Satan, now will I come upon thee with my appeals. 
Art thou not a graceless wretch ? Yes. Hast thou not a 
heart to be sorry for this wickedness? No, not as I should. 
And albeit, saith Satan, thou prayest sometimes, yet is not thy 
heart possessed with a belief that God will not regard thee ? 
Yes, says the sinner. Why then, despair, and go hang thyself, 
saith the devil. And now we are at the end of the thing 
designed and driven at by Satan. But what shall I now do ? 
saith the sinner. I answer. Take up the words of the text 
against him, 'Christ loves with a love that passeth know- 
ledge.' And answereth him farther, saying, Satan, though I 
cannot think that God loves me, though I cannot think that 
God will save me, yet I will not yield to tliee ; for God can do 
more than I think he can. He can do exceeding abundantly 
above what I ask or think. Thus the Text helpeth where 
obstructions arc put in against our believing. It is a Text 
made up of words picked and packed together, by the wisdom 
of God : picked and packed together, on purpose for the suc- 
cour and relief of the tempted, that they may, when, in the very 
midst of their distresses, cast themselves upon the love of God 
in Christ for salvation." — Works, p. 176G. 

It would be a delightful task to me, fond and familiar as I 



■*>"¥ 



128 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

am with both Luther and Bunyan, to parallehze their mature 
views of the great doctrines of the Gospel. But my limits 
forbid. No forbidding, however, shall prevent me from 
imploring theological Students, to trace out, mark, and 
remember, the cliordings of these original and mighty minds, 
with the tuned harps of Inspiration and Heaven. There is, 
indeed, no polish upon the language of either. They hlurt out, 
in blunt terms, their opinions of truth and duty : but their 
Saxon is a talismanic Sesame at all the doors of considera- 
tion. It is quite possible to yawn, if not to fall asleep, over 
John Howe, or Robert Hall, when they wire-draw the wedges 
of Sanctuary Gold, and then festoon the wire in artificial 
forms of ornate beauty : but Luther and Bunyan make the 
ground shake again, when they throw down the golden wed- 
ges ; and never make the metal shine, except when they lay 
it in thick plates upon the Mercy-seat, or in wide expanse on 
the walls, of the Temple : and then, they make us hear the 
unrolling of the sheets, as well as see the unburnished radiance 
of them. 

Perhaps the best thing I can do, in closing this brief chap- 
ter, is, to record the Imprimatur of the Bishop of London, 
who was contemporary with ihe first translation of Luther on 
the Galatians. The next Metropolitan, who shall speak in 
Edwin's style and spirit of that work, will eclipse the only 
two of the moderns, whom I have studied ; — Louth and 
Porteus. 

The Metropolitan of 1575, told the church and the world, 
that Luther's work being brought to him to peruse and consi- 
der, " I thought it my part, not only to allow of it to print, but 
also to commend it to the Reader, as a treatise most comfort- 
able to all afflicted consciences, exercised in the School of 
Christ. The kxiihor felt what he spake, and had experience 
of what he wrote, and thus was able, more lively, to express 
both the assaults and salving ; the order of the battle, and the 
means of the victory. 

"If Christ justify, who can condemn? — saith St. Paul. 
This most necessary doctrine, the author hath most substan- 
tially declared in his Commentary. Satan is the enemy : the 
victory is only by faith in Christ." — Imprimatur. 

It would seem from the Bishop's Preface, that the first trans- 
lators of Luther's work stuck fast, either from ignorance or 
fear, in the midst of it ; and that more learned men, caring 
for nothing so much as for the " relief of afflicted minds," put 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 129 

" to their helping hand, from zeal," but kept back their names 
from modesty. Being thus left in ignorance of the fnlshers 
of the translation, I say nothing about its beginners, — much 
as I might say. 

It deserves notice, that Bunyan improved upon Luther, in 
speaking of the Law. He did not, like him, rave or stamp, 
when smashing its " great teeth and strong horn," as a cursing 
Covenant. He saw how it was abolished, as "the ministry 
of Condemnation," at the cross of Ciirist. Neither Bunyan 
nor Luther, however, caught Paul's splendid idea, that the 
Chirograph of Law was nailed to the Cross, as Christ bin - 
self was, without losing any thing of its glory or authority as 
a Rule of life. Both Christ and Law were crucified, in order 
to be crowned forever. 



130 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

SATAN AND HIS ANGELS. 

Those who study Bunyan will read this Chapter. It will, 1 
hope, ^^ provoke'^ some Theologian to grapple with the philo- 
sophy of Satanic agency. Neither the Bampton nor the 
Congregational Lectures will be complete, until they take 
up this subject. Robert Hall, had he been spared, would have 
become a Lecturer, rather than leave the subject as it now 
stands. 

It is much to be regretted, that no commanding mind has 
girded up its loins, or clothed itself in all the armour of Light, 
(reason and revelation,) in order to challenge the public mind 
oil tlie subject of " Satan and his Angels." The question of 
the existence and agency of Evil Spirits, should not be left 
unsettled ; nor at issue between the superstitious and the 
scoffing, or the credulous and incredulous. It should be res- 
cued from the hands of both, and set at rest, by the "high 
hand" of Christian Philosophy : for it is a practical question, 
and fraught with national as w ell as personal interests. The 
claims of Humanity, as much as the credit of Religion, demand 
this. If there really be no devil, and thus no danger of being 
tempted but by each other, or by our own passions, the Laws of 
the country should no longer speak of " the instigation of the 
devil ;'' nor the Catechism of Churches, of the devil or his 
works ; nor Ministers and Parents, of his wiles or snares. 
But if, on the other hand, there be a devil, who can and does 
tempt men to sin, and whose angels and agents are actually 
busy at this demoralizing work, the awful fact should be so 
awfully proclaimed, that no witling durst laugh at it even 
over his cups, and no sciolist evade it even by verbal 
criticisms. 

True ; the subject is proclaimed in all ways, in the Bible. 
There, Satan is frequently named, characterized, denounced, 
and pointed out as the Enemy and the Tempter of man: and 
yet, the giddy laugh at him, and the busy forget him, and 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 131 

would-be philosophers resolve the whole affair into figures 
of speech. In the fashionable slang of modern philosophy, 
the devil is nothing more than " the personified •principle of 
evil.^^ — Southey^s Wesley. 

All this is said and done, in the very face of a Bible teem- 
ing with descriptions of Satan, and thundering with warnings 
against his wiles. True ! This, however, is not the only reveal- 
ed truth, which has been thus treated for ages, and yet after- 
wards was lodged in the public mind, and chartered into popu- 
larity, by the commanding influence of a great name. Pub- 
lie opinion has never played with images or indulgences, since 
Luther, Knox, and Cranmer fought the battle of the Reforma- 
tion. Whitefield and Wesley drove baptismal regeneration 
from all pulpits and all heads, into which the Cross of Christ 
was admitted. Wardlaw, Magee, and Smith, turned the new 
Version of Socinianism and the creed of Priestley, into an old 
bye-word. David Bogue awoke the Church to the claims 
of the heathen, and John Harris has frightened her at the 
worship of Mammon. Thus, a great truth can be forced into 
general notice, and fastened upon so many leading minds, by 
one influential Champion, that it will work its way through 
all ranks of society, and tell with effect upon public opinion 
and practice. There is, therefore, nothing in all the wanton 
or flippant modes in which Satanic influence is sported with, 
which may not be checked and put down. Mockery, and 
fearlessness, and heedlessness, in reference to this spiritual 
danger, may be rendered as rare and unpopular as blasphe- 
my or ribaldry. 

Why has not this been done ? Has it been shunned from a 
fear of making the devil of too much importance ? Have the 
Champions of orthodoxy thought that it would be paying him 
too high a compliment., to challenge him ? Do they suspect 
that the discussion of the subject would make all that is bad 
in public opinion, and all that is unhealthy in public feeling, 
worse 1 I will not suppose this. The world is too old, and 
the Church too wise, to dream or drivel again about the devils 
of superstition. These are all gone forever, with the ghosts 
and hobgoblins of antiquity. Science and common-sense cast 
out these imps ; and, therefore, no superstition can bring 
them back. They sunk into derisive contempt ; and nothing 
recovers from that overthrow. Even in regard to the devil 
himself, the cloven-foot is almost out of date, and his horns are 
given up entirely. Thus there is no danfjer of reviving any 
old fictions or fancies, by drawing public attention to the 



132 LIFEOPBUNYAN. 

revealed facts of Satanic agency ; especially in the case of 
John Bunyan. 

Is there, then, any danger of creating a panic^ by bringing 
home to the public mind the whole truth upon this subject ? 
Would the devil be too much dreaded by men, if they really 
believed all that the Scriptures say, or Bunyan believed of 
him ? This question is not answered by saying, that many 
who have Scriptural views of Satan, are neither in terror nor 
in bondage of spirit, by them. Such persons have Scrip- 
tural views of Grace and Providence also, which prevent dis. 
may, or counterbalance suspicion. What, however, would be 
the effect of realizing Saian, just as he is revealed, on a mind 
unprepared to fall back for relief upon either Grace or Provi- 
dence ? Such minds abound, alas, everywhere : and, there- 
fore, much as I regret the want of a Work, which should 
amount to a demonstration on this subject, I should deprecate 
a mere demonstration. It might bring as many into boiid- 
age all their life-time through fear of the devil, as are so 
through fear of death. 

There is no tendency of this kind in what the Bible says 
about Satan ; much as it says. It never introduces him alone, 
nor apart from some promise or maxim, calculated to balance 
whatever fear the description of his power or malignity may 
create. An Infidel might be challenged on this fact. Let 
him make out the revealed devil as he will, and exaggerate to 
the uttermost his shocking attributes, and caricature all their 
tendency to frighten weak minds and enslave susceptible ima- 
ginations ; still he cannot prove that this is their design. If can- 
did or honest, he durst not assert it : for in every instance, there 
stands, at Satan's " right hand," some " Angel of the Lord, to 
resist him," or to " bind him." I mean, every awful or warn- 
ing sight of his character and designs, is preceded or followed 
by some great and precious promise of deliverance, or by some 
kind advice, directly calculated to alleviate all unnecessary 
and tormenting fear. He has not, therefore, studied the Bible, 
who can call Satan a bugbear, to frighten children, or to affront 
the understandings of men. The most superficial reader even, 
may see at a glance, that, whenever Satan is brought forward 
there, he is followed by promises more numerous than his 
temptations, and confronted by Shields more powerful than 
his fiery darts. Thus the revealed Satan, however formidable 
or ferocious, is always placed before us in the Bible, between 
a double blaze of light, which shows clearly that he will flee 



LiFEOFBUNYAN. 133 

now irresisted, and that God will bruise him shortly, under the 
feet of all who try to overcome him by the blood of the Lamb 
and the word of their Testimony. Bunyan found this to be the 
fact. 

Such being the connexion in which we are warned ao^ainst 
the devil, and encouraged to war against him, it is astonishing 
that any man who acknowledges the Scriptures to be the Word 
of God, could imagine the devil to be merely a figure of speech, 
or a personification of the principle of evil. Why ; all that is 
sweetest in the Promises, all that is greatest in the Prophesies, 
all that is most inspiring in the prospects of Glory, all that is 
wonderful in the love of Christ, and in the grace and power of 
God, is all set against the power of Satan, as that power bears 
against mankind. Can such Sublimeyaci.<f be thus arrayed 
against a bold figure of speech? This would, indeed be 

" Ocean into tempest wrought, 
To waft a feather, or to drown a fly !" 

Besides, it really requires no great stock or strength of faith, 
in a world such as ours is, and always has been, to believe that 
there really is a real devil. Some men have certainly been 
very like the devil. Pharaoh, Herod, Nero, and some of the 
old Popes of Rome, did not come far short of his cruelty : 
Voltaire, and one of our own poets, took a very fiend-like plea- 
sure in poisoning the fountains of truth and morals : and many 
slave-traders, slave-drivers, and slave-owners, have almost 
equalled Satan, both in lying and in tyranny. This is not, I 
am aware, proof thai there is a devil ; but it renders the suppo- 
sition highly probable. It even proves, that no limit can be 
set to the lengths which a godless man can go, when his pas- 
sions are enflamed and unbalanced. All the concession, there- 
fore, required in order to the belief of a godless and reckless 
spirit, is, an admission that an angel might rebel and be pun- 
ished, as well as a man ; or fall as Adam fell. A less conces- 
sion than this, however, will do. Let it only be granted, that 
an angel might wish for more power, or more freedom, than 
God thought good for him to possess, or would grant him. 
This is certainly not an impossibility. If that angel, therefore, 
determined to get possession of what was denied him, in spite 
of God, and at all hazards (a thing we see 7nen do every day,) 
both his disappointment and his punishment are inevitable. 
He must be expelled from heaven, and branded with shame, if 
God is of purer eyes than to behold rebels around his throne, 

12 



134 LIFE OP BUN Y AN. 

And when thus banished and branded, what is more natural 
than for such a rebel to become reckless ? Having no hope, 
nothing is so hkely as that he should become the sworn foe of 
God, and of all that God loves or cares for. Men hate God 
and religion in this way, with less to exasperate or embitter 
their spirit : yes ; men who in youth smiled as cherubs at their 
mother's side, and sang like angels at their mother's knee, 
when they first heard of their Heavenly Father ! 

Thus, there is no more real difficulty in conceiving how 
fallen angels should become fierce, and malignant, and reck- 
less, than how a gentle boy should become a very monster of 
iniquity. The chief difficulty in regard to Satan is, not that 
he is inclined to seduce, and ensnare, and destroy ; but that 
God should allow him to try to do so. Now this is certainly 
a grave difficulty. It is, however, only one of many, of the 
same kind. Beauty, wealth, wine, luxuries, and dress, become 
ruinous snares : but who questions the justice or the wisdom 
of God in creating these things ? or requires, as the condition 
of piety, that they should all be swept out of the world, and 
nothing left to eat, drink, wear, or admire, which could be 
abused, or become a temptation ? No one. And yet, these 
things appeal more directly to our senses and our passions, 
than Satan does to our principles. 

This remark does not, I am aware, go far towards removing 
the difficulty. It merely proves that there are other difficul- 
ties to solve, in the probationary state of man. Besides, the 
things just named are all good in themselves, and only do evil 
when they are perverted from their original purpose ; where- 
as Satan is evil, and nothing but evil. 

If I could express this more strongly, I would : because if 
ever the difficulty before us is removed, it must be fairly met. 
Here then is a being thoroughly bad, and intent upon mis- 
chief, permitted by God to go about as a roaring lion, seeking 
whom he may devour. Now this, to say the least of it, is very 
strange, at first sight. Not much stranger, however, than 
some other things around us. There are rank poisons in not 
a few minerals, metals, and plants ; and none of them labelled 
such, by nature. Man has had to find them all out by expe- 
rience and observation. But now that these poisons are 
known, they can be turned into the best medicines by chemi- 
cal skill. Thus a thing may be very bad in itself, and yet 
turned to good account by wise management. Now, what if 
it can be shown that incalculable good might result, and is 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 135 

intended by God to result, to man, from the existence and 
agency of Satan in our world ? 

However this may be, one thing is obvious and certain ; 
that it is not for his oicn sake, nor to humour and gratify the 
devil, that God permits him to be at large in the world. For 
whose sake, then is it ? This, now, is the real question. Meet 
it fairly for a moment. We shall understand Bunyan's his- 
tory all the better by doing so. For whose sake, then, is Satan 
allowed so much freedom and power? Not, we may be sure, 
for his own, nor in compliment to himself. Well ; in this 
world, there is no one else to benefit by the permission but 
man : and Satan intends him no good ! True; and man ex- 
pects none from Satan. It is not true, however, that no good 
is to be gotten, because he intends none, and we expect none. 
The real question is, what does God intend to teach us, by 
quartering Satan upon us? Now I am neither afraid nor 
ashamed to say, that God has thus given us a licing lecture 
upon the worth, need, and nature of his great salvation, more 
intelligible and impressive, when duly weighed, than any Com- 
mentary on the Bible ever written, or than any uninspired 
sermon ever preached. There is no such illustration of what 
the Bible means by the loss of the divine image and favour ; 
by the curse of the law and the wrath to come, as Satan and 
his angels present. Their character and doom turn these 
words into things, and make the words and things flaming 
realities. Yes ; no man can look at the lot and prospects of 
the devil, as the Bible presents them, and think sin a light 
matter, or hell a doubtful place. It was, therefore, to bring 
home upon the human mind a solemn and settled conviction, 
that sin is no trifle, and held no fancy, that God permitted the 
agency of Satan on earth. This then is one good, which 
God intended, and which we may reap. It is, I grant, not 
generally reaped. How can it ? Men talk in a half-jest, half- 
earnest way about the devil, which defeats God's kind and 
wise purposes. This unmanly and flippant style of talking 
about the devil and his angels, almost defeats also the touch- 
ing pathos of that Scriptural appeal concerning Christ, — " He 
took not upon him the nature of Angels, but the seed of Abra- 
ham." There is no such appeal to our Gratitude as this, in 
the first instance. It pours itself out in a mighty flood upon 
our self-love. It compels us to ask, what must have been the 
consequences to us, had Christ taken upon him the nature of 
fallen angels, and died to save them instead of us ? Tims God 



136 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

gives us a sight of the sovereignty, riches, and freeness of his 
grace to man, by leaving Satan abroad amongst men, which 
no words nor emblems, however vivid, could have presented. 

When I consider these thiiigs calmly and closely, I cannot, 
on the whole, regret either the existence or the agency of 
Satan, so far as mankind are concerned. It is an evil, un- 
doubtedl}^, and a great one ; but it is certainly the least of two 
great evils : for nothing can be worse, or so bad, for men, as 
to think hghtly of sin, wrath, and salvation. Now although 
Satan's chief aim in all his temptations is to make men think 
lightly of these solemn things, still, there is more in Satan's 
lot to warn men, than there is in all his wiles to betray them. 
His own character, condition, and doom, give the lie direct to 
all the lies he evev palmed upon the world. Besides, it is any 
thing but certain, that the world would have been better than 
it is, if Satan had been kept out of it. No one can prove, 
that even our first parents would not have sinned and fallen, if 
they had not been tempted. Indeed, Adam was not directly 
tempted by the devil, when he transgressed. Accordingly, in 
excusing himself, he did not say, " the serpent beguiled ?ne, 
and I did eat:" but "the woman thou gavest to be with me, 
she gave me, and I did eat." Even this is not all : God him- 
self did not charge Satan with tempting Adam ; nor Adam, 
but with listening to the voice of Eve. As Adam, therefore, 
rebelled without being exposed to the wiles of the tempter, it 
is impossible to prove that he would have continued iaithful, if 
there had been no tempter. All the probability is on the other 
side : for if the desire to know both good and evil, upon a god- 
lijke scale, could ensnare the woman in one way, it was quite 
as likely to betray the man in another way some time. 

It is worse than puerile, it is inexpressibly contemptible, to 
speak or think of Eden being lost by eating an apple. There 
is an awful, though guilty sublimity in the ambition which 
ruined Adam and Eve, They fell from human perfection, by 
attempting to reach divine wisdom. They were angel-like in 
knowledge ; and they tried to be god- like in it too. Thus it 
was for no trijle they perilled soul or body. 

Such, then, being the object for which they hazarded their 
all, for time and eternity, it is anything but certain, that they 
would not have done the same, if Satan had never interfered. 
They might, for anything which can be shown to the contrary, 
have rebelled even more deliberately, or sinned just as Satan 
himself did. In like manner, it cannot be proved that the 



LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 137 

absence of Satan since the fall, would have kept the world 
from being so wicked as it is. Its wickedness might have been 
of another kind in some respects ; and yet, not at all in a less 
degree. Accordingly, the bloody and libidinous vices prevail 
most in those nations and tribes of the earth, where Satan does 
least, and visits but seldom. Yes ; it is not where he " goeth 
about most as a roaring lion," that cruelty or sensuality are 
most rampant or universal. There is, indeed, too much of 
both prevails in Christendom, "where Satan's seat is;" but 
nothing like so much as where he goes only occasionally. He 
wanders, indeed, " to and fro on the earth," and goeth " up 
and down in it ;" and thus, no doubt, visits it all from time to 
time : but, certainly, not all its parts alike. For, as it is the 
progress and influence of true religion, which Satan wars 
against, he has no occasion to walk often over the ground 
where false religions are established and triumphant. He has, 
in fact, little or nothing to call him into any Heathen or Mo- 
hammedan nation, where the Gospel is not assailing his king- 
dom. He can well afford to remain chiefly in Christendom, 
whilst Christians leave his principal strongholds in China, 
India, Japan, and Turkey, unassailed, and almost unchal- 
lenged. The Church has, indeed, of late, compelled him to 
look sharply after some of her ambassadors, and to revisit 
more frequently than usual a few portions of his empire : but 
she has not given him much trouble as yet. " And verily," 
she has her " due reward ! " Satan employs the time, strength, 
and stratagem, she thus renders needless abroad, in corrupting, 
dividing, and weakening her at home. 

It may not be usual to speak thus definitely and explicitly 
about the movements of Satan : out it would be worse than 
absurd to write vague generalities on the subject. These have 
done incalculable mischief; and will continue to do so, until 
they are flung out of the language of theology, and replaced 
with the words of Scripture. No scriptural phrase, even when 
highly figurative, suggests any extravagant or ridiculous idea 
of the devil himself, or of his angels. Men often speak, and 
even write — but God never — as if Satan were everywhere at 
the same time, or working equally in all "the children of dis- 
obedience," in both hemispheres of the world. God says, that 
Satan "goeth about ;" but not that he is in two places at one 
time. God says, that Satan is a tempter ; but not that all 
temptation comes from him alone. God represents Satan as 

12* 



138 LIFE OF BUNYAK. 

taking the lead in evil ; but not as working without human 
agents and infernal spirits. 

Robert Hall, with his usual elegance and accuracy, says, 
" We are taught (by the word of God) to conceive of Satan as 
the head of a spiritual empire of great extent, and compre- 
hending within itself innumerable subordinate agents. The 
term Satan, in application to this subject, is invariably found 
in the singular number; implying that there is one designated 
by that appellation." " Conceiving Satan, (then) agreeably 
to the intimations of the word of God, to be the chief or head 
of a spiritual dominion, we easily account for the extent of the 
agency he is affirmed to exert, in tempting and seducing the 
human race ; not by supposing him personally present when- 
ever such an operation is going on, but by referring it to his 
«w5pz"ce5, and considering it as belonging to the histxyry of his 
empire." " In describing the affairs of an empire it is the 
uniform custom of the Historian, to ascribe its achievements 
to one person; — to the ruling mind, under whose auspices 
they are performed, and by whose authority they are effected. 
Victories and defeats are ascribed to him who sustains the 
supreme power, without meaning for a moment to insinuate 
that they were the result of his individual agency. Thus in 
relating the events of the last war, the ruler of France would 
be represented as conducting at once the most multifarious 
movements, in the most remote parts of Europe ; where nothing 
more was intended than that they were executed directly or 
indirectly, by his order. On this principle, no more ambigui- 
ty or omnipresence is attributed to Satan, than to Alexander, 
Cesar, or Tamerlane, whose power was felt, and their authori- 
ty acknowledged far beyond the limits of their personal pre- 
sence." — HaWs Works, vol. v. p. 68. 

Thus it is not scriptural to suppose Satan, in person, to be 
often in every place where evil is going on, nor yet to ascribe 
to his direct influence every glaring evil in any place. In- 
deed, it is not necessary that either his hand or his eye should 
be upon all his works, nor upon all his agents, constantly, in 
those places of the earth where his dominion is greatest : for 
that dominion perpetuates itself by its own working, where- 
ever Christianity lets it alone. Accordingly, he has had but lit- 
tle or no trouble in some of the greatest nations of earth, since 
the moment he completed the machinery of their false religions. 
That machinery must have cost him no small labour at first: 
,)ut now it needs only oiling from time to time, and hardly that 



LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 139 

throughout the chief Asiatic nations. In none of them has he 
had to alter it much. It has done his work to his heart's con- 
tent, for thousands of years in China and India, without a 
new wheel, spring, pully, or weight. Satan has had to alter a 
little the machinery of both Popery and Mohammedism, in or- 
der to suit the times and vicissitudes of the Beast and the False 
Prophet; but Hindooism, and Budhism have required little or 
no mending, since he made them. Now, indeed, they are 
undergoing a little alteration, where missionaries are exposing 
them before the eyes of British Authorities; and wliere Bibles 
and Schools are spreading : but it is only there, that Satan 
has to soften any of the original features, or to change any of 
the old forms of abominable idolatry. 

It is a curious fact in the history of Satan's reign on earth, 
that as he never repeated the first experiment he tried upon 
Job, in order to overthrow a good man, by stripping and peel- 
ing him, so he never repeated in any nation the experiment 
he tried upon Greece and the Roman empire, by a refined 
idolatry. He outwitted himself completely, when he allied the 
fine Arts with Heathenism. He thought that by giving beau- 
ty to idols, and sublimity to temples, he would give perma- 
nency to his power in all the civilized world. And the expe- 
riment succeeded wonderfully for ages. It defeated itself, how- 
ever, when Christianity challenged the Greeks and the Ro- 
mans. They wcie i\\e first to embrace it! The fact is, the 
Arts called forth mind, and improved taste, and created public 
opinion; and thus broke up the hrutishness o^ ui^n. They 
did not make him happy, nor even moral: but they did make 
him think, and gave some polish to his manners. The apos- 
ties of the Lamb saw this; and, knowing well how the Gospel 
could inform and enlarge the mind, even where it offended the 
heart, they bent their strength upon civilized, not upon sav- 
age, man ; and triumphed gloriously. Thus the old serpent 
was caught by his own craft, in this instance: but he never 
tried to refine a nation again, by beautifying its gods. He 
has, ever since, stuck to grim or grotesque idols, or to images 
of beasts and creeping things. Even in that line also, he is 
now defeating himself; and he knows it! Yes; he feels at 
this moment, that he is playing a hazardous and desperate 
game to keep up his kingdom in Europe and America, and 
throughout the wide world, at the same time. He sees, and 
cannot help himself, that if he keep his place in Christendom, 
he must ply the European and American mind with vain phi- 



140 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

losophy, and subtle speculations, and refined heresies : and yet, 
that the success of these stratagems at home will inevitably 
create a tone and taste, which commercial nations will com- 
municate abroad, until idols and superstition are lashed or 
laughed out of all heathen nations which have any thing to 
sell or buy. Thus the irreligious mind which Satan is en- 
deavouring to create at home, will, by its very acuteness and 
dashing independence, create mind enough abroad to turn the 
laugh of Asia against all the nonsense of antiquity, and the 
scowl of Africa against all the enormities of superstition. 

Thus Satan's policy, whenever he transforms himself " into 
an angel of light," defeats eventually his power as an angel of 
darkness. Like the tide, whatever he gains upon the one 
coast he loses upon the other, in the long run. Providence 
thus overrules for good, what Satan intended for evil ; and that, 
not only by turning to account the power of intellect, which 
temptations to scepticism call forth, but also by rousing to the 
defence of Truth, the sanctified talent and learning of the 
Church of Christ. For whenever the Enemy has sowed 
Tares with a high hand, and in unusual abundance, the 
Watchmen on the walls of Zion have sounded an alarm, which 
sent all the Sowers of " good seed" into the field to re-sow it 
anew. We thus owe to his attacks upon the Gospel, the pow- 
erful and spirited defences of the Gospel, which form the hu- 
man bulwarks of the national faith. 

We are now somewhat prepared to look calmly and closely 
at the curious fact, that Satan seems, at first sight, to have 
but little to do with the promotion of the sensual vices : for it 
is not said in Scripture, that Noah, Lot, or David, fell by Sa- 
tanic temptation. That it is not brought in by the Sacred 
Writers, to account even for the wickedness of the old world, 
or for the enormities of Sodom and Gomorrah, Or for the li- 
centiousness of the Heathen. The fact is, direct Temptation 
is very properly kept out of the history of these crimes, that 
the human heart may be chiefly dreaded as the source of the 
licentious vices, and that Satan's perversions of true Religion 
might be more dreaded than his personal agency. He is too 
crafty to have a direct hand in sensuality. He knows that 
the lusts of the flesh will follow the lusts of the mind like their 
shadow, certainly and inseparably, and in a degree great 
enough for his purpose: and, therefore, he puts forth his 
strength, not upon individuals, but upon public opinion. He 
strikes at the moral restraints, which Law and Gospel lay 



LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 141 

upon vice. His cliief aim is to subvert the authority of Law, 
and to pervert the design of Grace; well knowing that a false 
religion will be a foul religion, and that one vicious maxim, 
once made popular in a nation, will make more slaves to vice 
in a month, than he could seduce in a year by tempting them 
one by one. But he is not thus, the less concerned in the 
evil. It is Satan that worketh in the children of disobedience, 
although he is not often personally at their right hand. Ac- 
cordingly, God says, that whosoever committeth sin is of the 
devil: and that all who do not make righteousness are not be- 
gotten of God, but the children of the devil. 1 John, iii. 8. 
It is upon this principle also, that Satan is called the god and 
prince of this world ; and that the whole unbelieving world is 
represented, as lying in the Wicked One. 

We have now a chte to the process of Satan, in tempting 
the fearers of God to despair, and blasphemy, and apostacy. 
This is Satan's peculiar and favourite work in the Church. 
But, just as in the world, his own hand is not always at the 
work, however much his eye may be upon it. He works by 
the power of false maxims in the production of despair, as well 
as in the production of vice and crime. He has got up, and 
set on foot or afloat in the world, dark and dire theories of 
Election and Reprobation, which he has only to keep up as 
theories, in order to distract or distress thousands, without 
much interference on his own part. He does, however, evi- 
dently interfere personally and directly with individuals. He 
sought to have Peter, that he might sift him as wheat. He 
entered into Judas, Ananias, and Sapphira. And Paul evi- 
dently believed, that the Corinthians were as really assailed 
by the devil, as Eve was. He therefore warned them as much 
against Satan himself, as against his ministers. 2 Cor. xi. 
13. In like manner, all the Apostles warn all Christians 
against the personal assaults of the spiritual Adversary. 

Thus both direct and indirect interferences with the mind 
of Christians, are expressly charged upon Satan. It is not 
revealed, however, when the direct begins to act, nor where 
the indirect ends its influence. And it is well, yea a mercy, 
that we do not know exactly. We are thus kept equally from 
too much dread, and from too little fear. 

There are, however, cases in which it may safely, and use- 
fully be said, as in the case of sowing Tares, "An Enemy 
hath done this." What else can be said, when the body, al- 
though robust and in the vigour of manhood, is paralyzed and 



142 LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 

prostrated even to the dust, or worn to a skeleton suddenly, 
by the haunting fear of reprobation, or the wasting suspicion 
of non-election, preying upon the spirit? These fears flash 
across many minds, and often Jlame for a short time : but a 
few sleepless nights, or doleful days, exhaust their power to 
distract the mind. It was not so with Bunyan, nor Rogers. 
Bruce of Edinburgh (an eminent Minister) was for twenty 
years shaken with terrors. Rogers was for two years in equal 
pain of body and mind. Happily such cases are as rare as 
they are peculiar ; but they are very like the personal work of 
Satan. 

In like manner, when blasphemies which are abhorrent to 
the mind, and which can be traced to no blasphemous book 
nor bad example, are yet rushing to the lips, and raging in the 
thoughts, and maddening the imagination, although the victim 
of them would give worlds to be rid of them, may be safely 
ascribed to Satanic suggestion. Christ says, indeed, that 
blasphemies proceed out of the heart : but he does not say, 
that they do so against the will, and in spite of the prayer and 
effort, of the heart to suppress and forget them. In such a 
case, they are most likely what old Isaac Ambrose calls them, 
" rather fire-balls thrown into a house, than flames from its 
own hearth." Thus it is the Devil himself that tempts to 
devilish sins. 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 143 



CHAPTER XIV. 

bunyan's crisis 



No one ever hit off, at a stroke, the profile of Bunyan's mind 
so truly as he himself did when he said, " I being very critical, 
did much desire to be resolved about (certain) questions : for 
my smaH had made me, that I knew not what ground was 
sure enough to hear 77ie." He was very critical ! We see at 
a glance now, that had he suspected and scrutinized his food, 
or watched his stomach after every meal, as he did the bear- 
ings and the effect of Divine Truth upon his case and spirits, 
he would have eaten in dread, and been afraid of lyino- down 
to sleep. This criticizing temper has much to do with both 
the freaks of his imagination and the frenzies of his conscience. 
It will not account, however, for all the latter, and especially 
not for the crisis of his horrors, which we have now to review. 
It happened to Bunyan, as to Abraham, that " a horror of 
great darkness fell upon him," just after he had seen his "Sal- 
vation with golden seals appendant." The Patriarch was not 
only at the altar, when the " thick cloud" came over his spirit ; 
but he had just been gazing upon the stars of heaven as the 
seals of his personal acceptance with God, and as emblems of 
his relative usefulness and countless posterity. Banyan, in- 
deed, had had no vision nor revelation of this kind, when a 
cloud fell upon his spirit ; but he had had " joy unspeakable 
and full of glory," from believing and loving an tmseen Sa- 
viour. " Now I found," he said, " that I loved Christ dearly ! 
O, methought, my soul cleaved unto him — my affections cleav- 
ed unto him. I felt ray love to him as hot as fire. As Job 
said, now I thought I should die in my nest. But quickly 
after this, my love was tried to purpose. I did quickly find 
that my great love was but too little ; and that I who had, as 
I thought, such burning love to Jesus Christ, could let him go 
again for a very trifle. For after the Lord had graciously de 
livered me from great and sore temptation, and had settled mo 
down sweetly in the face of his holy gospel, and had given mo 



144 LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 

such strong consolation and evidence from heaven touching 
my interest in his love through Christ, — the Tempter came 
upon me again, and that with a more grievous and dreadful 
temptation than before." 

This Temptation was, — " To sell and part with this most 
Blessed Christ, for the things of this life ; for any thing." It 
lay upon him, he says, for the space of a year, and followed 
him so continually, that he was not rid of it for one day in a 
month, nor for an hour together on many days, except when 
he was asleep. " It intermixt itself," says Dr. Southey, '• with 
whatever he thought or did." This is not too strongly stated. 
Bunyan himself says, " I could neither eat my food — stoop for 
a pin — chop a stick — or cast my eye to look on this or that, 
but still the temptation would come, 'sell Christ for this, or, 
sell Christ for that. Sell Him— sell Him— sell Him!' It 
would run in my thoughts not so little as a huridred times to- 
gether, — sell Him — sell Him !" 

Dr. Southey calls this, both "an almost unimaginable temp- 
tation," and " a strange and hateful suggestion." Conder 
says, " Bunyan does indeed describe the horrible but irration- 
al thought that was ever running in his mind, as a temptation : 
but where, he asks, is the bait ? " He answers his own question 
thus ; " Had the prospect of worldly advantage been held out 
to Bunyan on the condition of renouncing his creed, or viola- 
ting his allegiance to the Saviour ; had he in the face of 
worldly scorn or fiery persecution been prompted to deny the 
faith ; or had some dishonest gain been within his reach while 
struggling with penury, — here would have been a temptation. 
But in the case described, the assault — the suggestion — the 
seeming compliance with abhorred blasphemy, were all ideal, 
without motive, and contrary to reason. The suffering and 
distress only were real. We see no 7Xason then to deny, that 
the darkness into which Bunyan was plunged, arose from that 
distempered action of the imagination whicii is the ordinary 
effect of over-excitement." 

If Mr. Conder's object in this reasoning be, to exclude Sa- 
tanic temptation from this crisis of Bunyan's horrors, I can- 
not agree with him. I am not sure, however, that this is his 
design : and as I am quite sure that he would " make no con- 
cession to the Infidel," or to the Neologian, on the subject, I 
feel very jealous of myself lest I should mistake his meaning 
at all. Besides, there is great weight as well as point in his 
question, " Where was the hait,''^ — if this was a temptation ? 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 145 

It is not easy to answer this question, even in the case of Ban- 
yan ; and it would be perhaps impossible to answer it in the 
case of an ordinary man, who was haunted with a similar sug- 
gestion. Bunyan, however, was not an ordinary man. He 
was extraordinary : and, therefore, some of his temptations 
were likely to be of an extraordinary kind. It will not do in 
his case to say, that "where there is no appeal to rational 
motives, there can be no temptation." There was tempta- 
tion, as we have already seen, where " no sin would serve, but 
that " which was un-pardonahle ; the sin against the Holy 
Ghost. " I was," he says, " so provoked to desire to sin that 
sin, that I was as if I could not — must not — should not be 
quiet, until I had committed it." This was temptation: but 
where is the appeal to rational motives ? The fact is, irra- 
tional motives, if they had a strong dash of the dark or the 
daring about them, were the most tempting things to Bunyan, 
in certain moods of his wayward mind. To be devilJike, was 
occasionally as accordant with his worst moods, as to be 
angel-like, or god-like, was with his best. Satan would have 
got but a slight and short hold upon the Leviathan of Bedford, 
by appealing to rational motives, or by baiting his books with 
wordly garbage. "All the kingdoms of the world, and the 
glory of them," would have been no temptation to Bun5^an, as 
a price for parting with Christ : but a trijle could be so, just 
because it was a trifle. Its absurdity as a reason, threw him 
upon its source as a temptation, and compelled him to fear 
that Satan felt sure of his prey, seeing he could thus play with 
it by mockery, as well as scare it by fiery dr.rts. But I for- 
bear to explain. His record will speak for itself: for besides 
having no parallel in human experience, it is told with almost 
superhuman power. 

" I have been forced to stand as continually leaning and 
forcing my spirit against the Temptation, lest haply, before I 
were aware, some wicked thought might arise in my heart, 
that might consent thereto ; and sometimes the tempter would 
make me believe I had consented to it ; but then I should be 
as tortured upon a rack for whole days together. 

"This temptation did put me to such fears, lest I should, at 
some times, I say, consent thereto, and be overcome therewith, 
that by the very force of my mind, in labouring to gainsay 
and resist this wickedness, my very body would be put into 
action or motion, by way of pushing or thrusting with my 
hands or elbows ; still answering, as fast as the destroyer said, 

13 



146 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

* Sell him ; ' I will not, I will not, I will not : no not for thou- 
sands, thousands, thousands of worlds; thus reckoning, lest I 
should, in the midst of these assaults, set too low a value on 
him ; — even until I scarce well knew where I was, or how to 
be composed again. 

" At these seasons he would not let me eat my food in quiet ; 
but, forsooth, when I was set at the table at my meat, I must 
go hence to pray ; I must leave my food now, and just now ; 
— so counterfeit holy also would this devil be ! When I was 
thus tempted, I would say in myself, ' Now I am at meat ; let 
me make an end.' 'No,' said he, 'you must do it now, or 
you will displease God, and despise Christ.' Wherefore I was 
much afflicted with these things; and if, because of the sin- 
fulness of my nature (imagining that these were impulses from 
God) I should deny to do it, (I felt) as if I denied God ; and 
then should I be as guilty, because I did not obey a tempta- 
tion of the devil, as if I had broken the law of God indeed. 

"But to be brief: One morning as 1 did lie in my bed, I 
was, as at other times, most fiercely assaulted with this temp- 
tation, ' To sell and part with Christ ; ' the wicked suggestion 
still running in my mind, 'sell him, sell him, sell him, sell him,' 
as fast as a man could speak : against which also, in my 
mind, as at other times, I answered, ' No, no, not for thou- 
sands, thousands, thousands,' at least twenty times together : 
but at last, after much striving, even until I was almost out of 
breath, I felt this thought pass through my heart, ' Let him gOy 
if he will ;' — and I thought also, that I felt my heart freely 
consent thereto. Oh ! the diligence of Satan ! Oh ! the des- 
perateness of man's heart ! 

" Now was the battle won, and down fell I, as a bird that 
is shot from the top of a tree, into great guilt, and fearful de- 
spair. Thus getting out of my bed, I went moping into the 
field ; but God knows, with as heavy a heart as mortal man, 
I think, could bear ; where for the space of two hours, I was 
like a man bereft of life: and, as now, past all recovery and 
bound over to eternal punishment. 

"And withal, that scripture did seize upon my soul : 'Or 
profane person, as Esau, who for one morsel of meat, sold his 
birthright : for ye know, how that afterwards when he would 
have inherited the blessing, he was rejected, for he found no 
place of repentance, though he sought it carefully with tears.' 
Heb. xii. 16. 

" Now was I as one bound ; I felt myself shut up unto the 



LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 147 

judgment to come; nothing now, for two years together, 
would abide with me, but damnation, and an expectation of 
damnation : I say, nothing now would abide with me but 
this, save some few moments for relief, as in the sequel you 
will see. 

" These words were to my soul, like fetters of brass to my 
legs, in the continual sound of which I went for several months 
together. But about ten or eleven o'clock on that day, as I 
was walking under a hedge (full of sorrow and guilt, God 
knows) and bemoaning myself for this hard hap, that such a 
thought should arise within me, suddenly this sentence rushed 
in upon me, ' The blood of Christ remits all guilt.' At this I 
made a stand in my spirit : with that, this word took hold 
upon me, ' The blood of Jesus Christ his Son, cleanseth us 
from all sin.' 1 John, i. 7. 

" Now I began to conceive peace in my soul, and methought 
I saw, as if the Tempter did leer and steal away from me, as 
being ashamed of what he had done. At the same time also 
I had my sin, and the blood of Christ, thus represented to me, 
— That my sin, when compared to the blood of Christ, was 
no more to it, than this little clod or stone before me, is to this 
vast and wide field that here I see. This gave me good en- 
couragement for the space of two or three hours ; in which 
time also, methought, I saw, by faith, the Son of God, as suffer- 
ing for my sins : but because it tarried not, I therefore sunk 
in my spirit, under exceedinoj guilt again. 

" But chiefly by the afore- mentioned scripture concerning 
Esau seUing of his birthright ; for that scripture would lie all 
day long in mind, and hold me down, so that I could by no 
means lift up myself; for when I would strive to turn to this 
scripture or that, for relief, still that sentence would be sound- 
ing in me ; 'For ye know, how that afterwards, when he would 
have inherited the blessing, he found no place of repentance, 
though he sought it carefully with tears.' 

" Sometimes, indeed, I should have a touch from that scrip- 
ture, ' I have prayed for thee, that thy faith fail not ;' but it 
would not abide upon me ; neither could I, indeed, when I con- 
sidered my state, find ground to conceive in the least, that 
there should be the root of that grace in me, having sinned as 
I had done. Now was I tore and rent in heavy case, for many 
days together. 

" Then began I with sad and careful heart to consider of the 
nature and largeness of my sin, and to search into the word of 



148 LIFE OF BUN Y AN, 

God, if I could in any place espy a word of promise, or any 
encouraging sentence, by which I might take relief. Where- 
fore I began to consider that scripture, " All sins shall be for- 
given unto the sons of men, and blasphemies wherewithsoever 
they shall blaspheme/ Which place, methought, at a hlush, 
did contain a large and glorious promise for the pardon of 
high offences ; but considering the place more fully, I thought 
it was rather to be understood, as relating more chiefly to those 
who had, while in a natural estate, committed such things as 
there are mentioned ; but not to me, who had not only receiv- 
ed light and mercy, but that had, both after, and also contra- 
ry to that, so slighted Christ, as I had done. 

" I feared, therefore, that this wicked sin of mine might be 
that sin unpardonable, of which He there thus speaketh ; ' But 
he that shall blaspheme against the Holy Ghost, hath never 
forgiveness, but is in danger of eternal damnation.' And I did 
the rather give credit to this,, because of that sentence in the 
Hebrews : ' For you know how that afterwai-ds, when he would 
have inherited the blessing, he was rejected ; for he found no 
place of repentance, though he sought it carefully with tears,' 
And this stuck always with me. 

"And now was I both a burthen and a terror to myself; 
nor did I ever so know, as now, what it was to be weary of 
my life, and yet afraid to die. Oh ! how gladly now would I 
have been any body but myself 1 — any thing bat a man, — and 
in any condition but my own ! For there was nothing did 
pass more frequently over my mind, than that it was impossible 
for me to be forgiven my transgression, and to be saved from 
the wrath to come. 

^' And now I began to labour to call again time that was 
spent ; wishing a thousand times twice told, that the day was 
yet to come, when \ should be tempted to such a sin : conclu- 
ding with great indignation, both against my heart, and, all 
assaults, how I would rather have been torn in pieces, than be 
found a consenter thereto. But alas ! these thoughts, and 
wishings, and resolvings, were now too late to help me ; this 
thought had passed my heart ; God hath let me go, and I am 
fallen. ' Oh !' thought I, ' that it was with me as in months 
past, as in the days when God preserved me.' 

" Then again, being loth and unwilling to perish, I began to 
compare my sin with others, to see if I could find that any of 
thosethat were saved, had done as I had done. So I consider- 
ed David's adultery and murder, and found them most heinous 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 149 

crimes, and those too committed after light and grace receiv- 
ed : but yet by considering that his transgressions were only 
such as were against the law of Moses, from which the Lord 
Christ could, with the consent of his word, deliver him. But 
mine was against the gospel ; yea, against the Mediator. I 
had sold my Saviour ! 

" Now again should I be as if racked upon the wheel, when 
I considered, that, besides the guilt that possessed me, I should 
be so void of grace, so bewitched ! What, thought I, must it 
be no sin but this ? Must it needs be the great transgression 7 
Must that wicked one touch my soul ? Oh \ what sting did I 
find in all these sentences ! 

" What, thought I, is there but (me sin that is unpardonable ? 
But one sin that layeth the soul without the reach of God's 
mercy ; and must I be guilty of that ? must it needs be that ? 
Is there but one sin among so many millions of sins, for which 
there is no forgiveness ; and must I commit this 1 Oh ! un- 
happy sin ! Oh ! unhappy man ! These things would so 
break and confound my spirit, that I could not tell what to do ; 
I thought at times, they would have broke my spirits ; and 
still, to agsfravate mv miserv, that would run in my mind, — ■ 
' You know how, that afterwards when he would have inherited 
the blessing, he was rejected.' Oh ! no one knows the terrors 
of those days but myself. 

" After this I began to consider of Peter's sin, which he 
committed in denying his Master ; and indeed, this came 
nighest to mine of any that I could find, for he had denied his 
Saviour, as I, after light and mercy received ; yea, and that 
too after warning given hiin. I also considered, that he did 
it once and twice ; and that, after time to consider betwixt. 
But though I put all these circumstances together, that, if pos- 
sible, 1 might find help, yet I considered again, that his was 
but a denial of his Master, but mine was a selling of my Sa- 
viour. Wherefore I thought with myself, that I came near- 
er to Judas, than either to David or Peter. 

" Here again my torment would flame out and afflict me ; 
yea, it would grind me, as it were to powder, to consider the 
preservation of God towards others, while I fell into the snare; 
for in my thus considering of other men's sins, and comparing 
of them with mine own, I could evidently see, that God pre- 
served them, notwithstanding their wickedness, and would not 
let them, as he had let me, become a son of perdition. 

« But oh ! how did my soiil at this time prize the preserva- 
13* 



150 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

tion that God did set about his people ! Ah, how safely did I 
see them walk, whom God had hedged in ! They were within 
his care, protection, and special providence. Though they 
were full as bad as I by nature ;^ yet because He loved them, 
he would not suffer them to fkll without the range of mercy : 
but as for me, I was gone : — I had done it : — he would not pre- 
serve me, nor keep me ; but suffered me, because I was a re- 
probate, to fall as I had done. Now did those blessed places 
that speak of God's keeping his people, shine like the sun be- 
fore me, though not to comfort me, yet to show me the blessed 
state and heritage of those whom the Lord had blessed. 

" Now I saw, that as God had his hand in all the provi- 
dences and dispensations that overtook his elect ; so he had 
his hand in all the temptations that they had to sin against 
him ; not to animate them to wickedness, but to choose their 
temptations and troubles for them ; and also to leave them for 
a time, to such things only that might not destroy, but hum- 
ble them ; as might not put them beyond, but lay them in the 
way of the renewing his mercy. But oh ! what love, what 
care, what kindness and mercy did I now see, mixing itself 
with the most severe and dreadful of all God's ways to his 
people ! He would let David, Hezekiah, Solomon, Peter, and 
others fall, but he would not let them fall into the sin unpar- 
donable, nor into hell for sin. Oh ! thought I, these be the 
men that God hath loved ; these be the men that God, though 
he chastiseth them, keeps them in safety by him ; and them 
whom he makes to abide under the shadow of the Almighty, 

" But all these thoughts added sorrow, grief, and horror to 
me ; as whatever I nov/ thought on, it was killing to me. If 
I thought how God kept his own, that was hilling to me ; if I 
thought how I was fallen myself, that was hilling to me. As 
all things wrought together for the best, and to do good to 
them that were the called, according to his purpose, so I thought 
that all things wrought for damage, and for my eternal 
overthrow. 

"Then again I began to compare my sin with the sin of 
Judas, that, if possible, I might find if mine differed from that, 
which in truth is unpardonable : and oh ! thought I, if it 
should differ from it, though the breadth of a hair, what a 
happy condition is my soul in ! And by considering, I found 
that Judas did this intentionally, but mine was against prayer 
and strivings : besides, his was committed with much delibe- 
ration, but mine in a fearful hurry, on a sudden. All this 



LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 151 

while I was tossed to and fro like the locust, and driven from 
trouble to sorrow; bearing always the sound of Esau's fall, in 
mine ears, and the dreadful consequences thereof. 

" Yet this consideration about Judas's sin was, for awhile, 
some little relief to me ; for I saw I had not, as to the circum. 
stances, transgressed so fully as he. But this was quickly 
gone again ; for I thought with myself, there might be more 
ways than one to commit this unpardonable sin : also I thouo-ht 
there might be degrees of that, as well as of other transgres- 
sions ; wherefore, for aught I yet could perceive, this iniquity 
of mine might be such, as might never be passed by. 

" I was often now ashamed that I should be like such an 
vgly man as Judas : I thought also how loathsome I should be 
unto all the saints in the day of judgment ; insomuch that 
now I could scarce see a good man, that I believed had a good 
conscience, but I should feel my heart tremble at him, while I 
was in his presence. Oh ! now I saw glory walking with 
God, and what a mercy it was to have a good conscience 
before him. 

" I was much about that time tempted to content myself 
by receiving some false opinions ; as, that there should be 
no such thing as a day of judgment ; that we should not 
rise again ; and that sin was no such grievous thing : the 
tempter suggesting thus ; ' For if these things should indeed 
be true, yet to believe otherwise would yield you ease for the 
present. If you must perish, never torment yourself so much 
beforehand ; drive the thoughts of damning out of your mind, 
by possessing your mind with some such conclusions that 
Atheists and Ranters use to help themselves withal.' 

" But oh ! when such thoughts have passed through my 
heart, how, as it were, within a step have death and judgment 
been in my view ! Methought the judge stood at the door ; 
I was as if it was come already ; so that such things could 
have no entertainment. But methinks, I see by this, that 
Satan will use any means to keep the soul from Christ ; he 
loveth not an awakened frame of spirit ; security, blindness, 
darkness, and error, is the very kingdom and habitation of 
the v/icked one. 

" I found it a hard work now to pi*ay to God, because 
despair was swallowing me up ; I thought I was as with a 
tempest, driven away from God ; for always when I cried to 
God for mercy, this would come in, ' 'Tis too late, I am lost. 



152 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

God hath let me fall ; not to my correction, but my condem- 
nation : my sin is unpardonable ; and I know, concerning 
Esau, how that after he had sold his birthright, he would have 
inherited the blessing, but was rejected.' About this time I 
did light on that dreadful story of that miserable mortal Francis 
Spira ; a book that was to my troubled spirit, as salt, when 
rubbed into o. fresh wound : every sentence in that book, every 
groan of that man, with all the rest of his actions in his 
dolours, as his tears, his prayers, his gnashing of teeth, his 
wringing of hands, his twisting, and languishing, and pining 
away under that mighty hand of God that was upon him, 
were as knives and daggers in my soul ; especially, that 
sentence of his was frightful to me, ' Man knows the begin- 
ning of sin, but who bounds the issues thereof?' Then 
would the former sentence, as the conclusion of all, fall like 
an liot thunderbolt again upon my conscience : ' For you 
know how that afterwards, v/hen he would have inherited the 
blessing, he was rejected ; for he found no place of repentance, 
though he sought it carefully with tears. 

"Then should I be struck into a very great trembling, inso« 
much that at some times I could, for whole days together, feel 
my very body, as well as my mind, to shake and totter under 
the sense of this dreadful judgment of God, that would fall on 
those that have sinned that most fearful and unpardonable sin, 
I felt also such a clogging and heat at my stomach, by reason 
of this my terror, that I was, especially at some times, as if 
my breast-bone would split asunder : then I thought concern- 
ing that of Jadas, 'who by his falling headlong burst asunder, 
and all his bowels gushed out.' 

*' I feared also that this was the mark that God did set on 
Cain, even continual fear and trembling, under the heavy load 
of guilt that he had charged on him for the blood of his brother 
Abel. Thus did I wind, and twine, and shrink under the 
burthen that was upon me ; which burthen also did so oppress 
me, that I could neither stand nor go, nor lie either at rest 
or quiet. 

"Yet that saying would sometimes come into my mind ' he 
hath received gifts for the rebellious ;' the rebellious, thought I ! 
—why surely they are such as once were under subjection ta 
their prince ; even those who after they had once sworn subjec- 
tion to his government, have taken up arms against him ; and 
this, thought I, is my very condition : I once loved him, feared 
him, served him ; but now I am a rebel ; I have sold him, \ 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 153 

have said, let him go if he will : but yet he has gifts for rebels; 
and then why not for me? 

"This sometimes I thought on, and would labour to take 
hold thereof, that some, though small refreshment, might have 
been conceived by me. But in this also I missed of my 
desire, I was driven with force beyond it ; I was like a man 
going to execution, even hy that place where he would fain 
creep in and hide himself, but may not. 

" Again, after I had thus considered the sins of the saints in 
particular, and found mine went beyond them, then I began to 
think with myself, Suppose I should put all theirs together, 
and mine alone against them, might I not then find encourage- 
ment 1 — for if mine though bigger than any one, yet should 
be hut equal to all, then there is hope ; for that blood that 
hath virtue enough in it to wash away all theirs, hath virtue 
enough in it to wash away mine, though this one be full as 
big, if not bigger than all theirs. Here again, I would consi- 
der the sin of David, of Solomon, of Manasseh, of Peter, and 
the rest of the great offenders ; and would also labour, when I 
might with fairness, to aggravate and heighten their sins by 
several circumstances. 

"I would think with myself that David shed blood to cover 
his adultery, and that by the sword of the children of Ammon ; 
a work that could not be done, but by contrivance, which was 
a great aggravation to his sin. But then this would turn upon 
me : ' Ah ! but these were but sins against the law, from 
which there was a Jesus sent to save them ; but yours is a sin 
against the Saviour, and who shall save you from that?' 

" Then I thought on Solomon, and how he sinned in loving 
strange women, in falling away to their idols, in building 
them temples, in doing this after light, in his old age, after 
great mercy received : but the same conclusion that cut me 
off in the former consideration, cut me off as to this ; namely, 
that all those were but sins against the law, for which God 
had provided a remedy ; but I had sold my Saviour, and there 
remained no more sacrifice for sin. 

" I would then add to these men*s sins, the sins of Manas- 
seh ; how that he built altars for idols in the house of the 
Lord ; he also observed times, used enchantments, had to do 
with wizards, was a wizard, had his familiar spirits, burned 
his children in the fire in sacrifice to devils, and made the 
streets of Jerusalem run down with the blood of innocents. 
These, thought I, are great sins, sins of a bloody colour; but 



154 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

yet it would turn again upon me, ' they are none of them of the 
nature of yours ; you have parted with Jesus, you have sold 
your Saviour.' 

" This one consideration would always hill my heart, my 
sin was point-blank against my Saviour ; and that too, at that 
height, that I had in my heart said of him, ' let him go if he 
will.' Oh ! methought this sin was bigger than the sins of a 
country, of a kingdom, or of the whole world ; no one, pardon- 
able ; nor all of them together, was able to equal mine ; mine 
out-went them every one. 

" Now I should find in my mind to flee from God, as from 
the face of a dreadful Judge, yet this was my torment, I could 
not escape his hand : ' It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands 
of the living God.' But, blessed be his grace, that scripture, in 
these Jlying JitSf would call, as running after me, < I have blot- 
ted out, as a thick cloud, thy transgressions ; and, as a cloud, 
thy sins ; return unto me, for I have redeemed thee.' This, I 
say, would come in upon my mind, when I was fleeing from 
the face of God ; for I did flee from his face ; that is, my mind 
and spirit fled before him ; by reason of His higlme.^s, I could 
not endure : then would the text cry, ' Return unto me ;' it 
would cry aloud, with a great voice, * Return unto me, for 
I have redeemed thee.' Indeed this would make me to make 
a little stop, and as it were, look over my shoulder behind me, 
to see if I could discern that the God of grace did follow me 
with a pardon in his hand ; but I could no sooner do that, but 
all would be clouded and darkened again by that sentence, 
* For you know, how that afterwards, when he would have 
inherited the blessing, he found no place of repentance, 
though he sought it carefully with tears.' Wherefore, I could 
not refrain, but fled, though at some times it cried, ' Return, 
return,' as if it did halloo after me : but I feared to close in 
therewith, lest it should not come from God ; for that other, as 
I said, was still sounding in my conscience, ' For you know, 
that afterwards, when he would have inherited the blessing, 
he was rejected,' &-c. 

" Once as I was walking to and fro in a good man's shop, 
bemoaning of myself in my sad and doleful state, afflicting 
myself with self-abhorrence for this wicked and ungodly 
thought ; lamenting also this hard hap of mine for that I 
should commit so great a sin, greatly fearing that I should 
not be pardoned ; praying also in my heart, that if this sin 
of mine did differ fi'om that against the Holy Ghost, the Lord 
would show it me. And being now ready to sink with fear, 



LIPEOFBUNYAN. 155 

suddenly there was, as if there had rushed in at the window, 
the noise o^ wind upon me, but very pleasant, and as if I heard 
a voice speaking, ' Didst thou ever refuse to be justified by the 
blood of Christ V And withal, my whole life of profession 
past, was in a moment opened to me, wherein I was made to 
see, that designedly I had not : so my heart answered groan- 
ingly. No ! Tnen fell with power, that word of God upon me, 
'See that ye refuse not him that speaketh.' This made a 
strange seizure upon my spirit ; it brought light with it, and 
commanded a silence in my heart, of all those tumultuous 
thoughts, that did before use, like mastcrless hell hounds, to 
roar and bellow, and make an hideous noise within me. It 
showed me also that Jesus Christ had yet a word of grace and 
mercy for me ; that he had not, as I had feared, quite forsak- 
en and cast off my soul ; yea, this was a kind of check for my 
proneness to desperation ; a kind of threatening of me, if I did 
not, notwithstanding my sins, and the heinousness of them, 
venture my salvation upon the Son of God. But as to my 
determining about this strange dispensation, what it was, I 
know not ; nor from whence it came I know not ; I have not 
yet in twenty years' time been able to make a judgment of it, 
I thought then what here I should be loath to speak. But 
verily that sudden rushing wind was, as if an arigel had come 
upon me ; but both it, and the salvation, I will leave until the 
day of judgment ; only this I say, it commanded a great calm 
in my soul ; it persuaded me there might be hope : it showed 
me, as I thought, what the sin unpardonable was, and that my 
soul had yet the blessed* privilege to flee to Jesus Christ for 
mercy. But I say, concerning this dispensation ; I know not 
yet what to say, unto it : which was also, in truth, the cause, 
that 2ii first I did not speak of it in the book; I do now also 
leave it to be thought on by men of sound judgment. I lay not 
the stress of my salvation thereupon, but upon the Lord Jesus, 
in the promise ; yet seeing I am here unfolding of my secret 
things, I thought it might not be altogether inexpedient to let 
this also show itself, though I cannot novv relate the matter as 
there I did experience it. This lasted in the savour of it for 
about three or four days, and then I began to mistrust and to 
despair again. 

" Wherefore still my life hung in doubt before me, not know- 
ing which way I should tip; only this I found my soul desire, 
even to cast itself at the foot of grace, by prayer and supphca- 
cation. But oh ! 'twas hard for me now, to have the face to 



156 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

pray to this Christ for mercy, against whom I had thus vilely 
sinned; 'twas hard work, I say, to offer to look him in the 
face, against whom I had so vilely sinned ; and indeed I have 
found it as difficult to come to God by prayer, after back- 
sliding from him, as to any other thing. Oh! the shame that 
did now attend me! especially when I thought I am now a 
going to pray to Him for mercy, that I had so lightly esteem- 
ed but awhile before ! I was ashamed ; yea, even confounded, 
because this villany had been committed by me. But I saw 
that there was but one way with me; I must go to him, and 
humble myself unto him, and beg that he, of his wonderful 
mercy, would show pity to me, and have mercy upon my 
wretched sinful soul. 

"Which, when the tempter perceived, he strongly suggested 
to me, ' that I ought not to pray to God, for prayer was not 
for any in my case ; neither could it do me good, because 1 
had rejected the Mediator, by whom all prayers came with 
acceptance to God the Father ; and without whom no prayer 
could come into his presence : wherefore now to pray, is but 
to add sin to sin; yea, now to pray, seeing God has cast you 
off, is the next way to anger and offend him more than you 
ever did before.' 

" ' For God,' saith he, ' hath been weary of you for these 
several years already, because you are none of his; your bawl- 
ing in his ears, hath been no pleasant voice to him ; and there- 
fore he let you sin this sin, that you might be quite cut off; — 
and will you pray still ' This the devil urged, and set forth 
that in Numbers, when Moses said to the children of Israel, 
That because they would not go up to possess the land, when 
God would have them, therefore for ever he did bar them out 
from thence, though they prayed they might with tears. 

" As it is said in another place, ' The man that sins pre- 
sumptuously, shall be taken from God's altar, that he may 
die;' even as Joab was by King Solomon, when he thought to 
find shelter there. These places did 'pincli me very sore ; yet 
my case being desperate, I thought with myself, I can but die ; 
and if it must be so, it shall once be said, ' That such an one died 
at the foot of Christ in prayer,^ This I did, but with great diffi- 
culty, God doth know; and that because, together with this, 
still that saying about Esau, would be set at my heart, even 
like a flaming sword, to keep the way of the tree of life, lest I 
should take thereof and live. Oil! who knows how hard a 
thing I found it, to come to God in prayer ! 



LIFE OF BUN YAN. 157 

" I did also desire the prayers of the people of God for me, 
but I feared that God would give them no heart to do it; yea, 
I trembled in my soul to think, that some or other of them 
would shortly tell me, that God hath said those words to them, 
that he once did say to the prophet, concerning the children 
of Israel, ' Pray not for this people, for I have rejected them.' 
So, '.Pray not for him, for I have rejected him.' Yea, I thought 
that he had whispered this to some of them already, only they 
durst not tell me so ; neither durst I ask them of it, for fear if 
it should be so, it would make me quite beside myself: ' Man 
knows the beginning of sin,' said Spira, ' but who bounds the 
issues thereof!' 

"Now also did the tempter begin to mock me in my mise- 
ry, saying, * That seeing that I had thus parted with the Lord 
Jesus, and provoked him to displeasure, who would have stood 
between my soul and the flame of devouring fire, there was 
now hut one way, and that was, — to pray that God the Father 
would be a Mediator betwixt the Son and me ; that we might 
be reconciled again, and that I might have that blessed benefit 
in him, that his blessed saints enjoyed. 

" Then did that scripture seize upon my soul, < He is of one 
mind, and who can turn him!' Oh ! I saw, it was as easy to 
persuade him to make a new world, a new covenant, or a new 
Bible, besides that we have already, as to pray for such a 
thing ! This was to persuade him, that what he had done al- 
ready, was mere folly, and persuade him to alter, yea, to dis- 
annul the whole way of salvation. And then would that say- 
ing rend my soul asunder, ' Neither is there salvation in any 
other, for there is none other name under heaven given among 
men, whereby we must be saved.' Acts, iv. 12. 

" Now the most free, and full, and gracious words of the 
gospel, were the greatest torment to me ; yea, nothing so 
afilicted me, as the thoughts of Jesus Christ ; the remembrance 
of a Saviour. Because I had cast him off*, this brought the 
villany of my sin, and my loss by it, to mind. Nothing 
did twinge my conscience like this. Every thing that I thought 
of the Lord Jesus, of his grace, love, goodness, kindness, gen- 
tleness, meekness, death, blood, promises, and blessed exhorta- 
tions, comforts, and consolations, went to my soul like a sword ; 
for still unto these my considerations of the Lord Jesus, these 
thoughts would make place for themselves in my heart, — * Ay, 
this is the Jesus, the loving Saviour, the Son of God, whom 
you have parted with, whom you have slighted, despised, and 
14 



158 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

abused ! This is the only Saviour, the only Redeemer, the 
only one that could so love sinners, as to wash them from their 
sins in his own most precious blood ; but you have no part nor 
lot in this Jesus; you have put him from you ; you have said 
in your heart. Let him go if he will. Now, therefore, you are 
severed from him ; you have severed yourself from him : be- 
hold then his goodness ; — but yourself to be no partaker of it.' 
Oh ! thought I, what have I lost, what have I parted with ! 
What has disinherited my poor soul ! Oh ! it is sad to be de- 
stroyed by the grace and mercy of God ; to have the Lamb, 
the Saviour, turn lion and destroyer; I could not bear to think 
of the wrath of the Lamb, in that great day of his wrath, when 
no rebels to his authority will be able to stand. I also trem- 
bled, as I have said, at the sight of the saints of God, especial- 
ly at those that greatly loved him, and that made it their bu- 
siness to walk continually with him in this world ; for they 
did, both in their words, their carriages, and all their expres- 
sions of tenderness and fear to sin against their precious Sa- 
viour, condemn, lay guilt upon, and also add continual afflic- 
tion and shame unto my soul. The dread of them was upon 
me, and I trembled at God's Samuels : ' And Samuel came to 
Bethlehem, and the elders of the town trembled at his coming, 
and said, Comest thou peaceably ?' 1 Sam. xvi. 4. 

" Now also the tempter began afresh to mock my soul ano- 
ther way, saying, ' That Christ indeed did pity my case, and 
was sorry for my loss ; but forasmuch as I had sinned and 
transgressed as 1 had done, he could by no means help me, 
nor save me from what I feared : for my sin was not of the 
nature of theirs, for whom he bled and died ; neither was it 
counted with those that were laid to his charge, when he hanged 
on a tree : — Therefore, unless he should come down from hea- 
ven, and die anew for this sin (though indeed he did greatly 
pity me,) yet I could have no benefit of him.' These things 
may seem ridiculous to others, even as ridiculous as they are 
in themselves; but to me they were most tormenting cogita- 
tions : every one of them augmented my misery, that Jesus 
Christ should have so much love as to pity me, when yet he 
could not help me too ; nor did I think that the reason why 
he could not help me, was, because his merits were weak, or 
his grace and salvation spent on others already, but because 
his faithfulness to his threatenings, would not let him extend 
his mercy to me. Besides, I thought, as I have already hinted, 
that my sin was not within the bounds of that pardon, that 



1 



LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 159 

was wrapped up in a promise ; and if not, then I knew surely, 
that it was more easy for heaven and earth to pass away, than 
for me to have eternal life. So that the ground of all these 
fears of mine, did arise from a steadfast belief I had of the sta- 
bility of the holy w^ord of God, and also from my being misin- 
formed of the nature of my sin. 

« But oh ! how this would add to my affliction, to conceit that 
I should be guilty of such a sin, for which he did not die ! 
These thoughts did so confound me, and imprison me, and tie 
me up from faith, that I knew not what to do. But oh ! 
thought I, that he would come down again ! Oh ! that the 
work of man's redemption was yet to be done by Christ ! 
— how would I pray him and intreat him to count and 
reckon this sin among the rest for which he died ! But this 
scripture would strike me down as dead ; ' Christ being raised 
from the dead, dieth no more ; death hath no more dominion 
over him.' 

" Thus by the strange and unusual assaults of the tempter, 
my soul was like a broken vessel, driven as with the winds, 
and tossed, sometimes headlong into despair, sometimes upon 
the covenant of works, and sometimes to wish that the new 
covenant, and the conditions thereof, might so far forth, a3 I 
thought myself concerned, be turned another way and changed. 
But in all these, I was as those that jostle against the rocks ; 
more broken, scattered, and rent. Oh ! the unthought-of 
imaginations, frights, fears, and terrors, that are effected by a 
thorough application of guilt yielding to desperation ! This 
is the man that hath his dwelling among the tombs with the 
dead; that is always crying out, and cutting himself with 
stones. But, I say, all in vain ; desperation will not comfort 
him, the old covenant will not save him; nay, heaven and 
earth shall pass away, before one jot or tittle of the word and 
law of grace will fail or be removed. This I saw, this I felt, 
and under this I groaned ; yet this advantage I got thereby ; 
— namely, a further confirmation of the certainty of the way 
of salvation ; and that the Scriptures were the word of God. 
Oh ! I cannot now express what I then saw and felt of the 
steadiness of Jesus Christ, the rock of man's salvation. What 
was done, could not be undone, added to, nor altered. I saw, 
indeed, that sin might drive the soul beyond Christ, even the 
sin which is unpardonable ; but wo to him that was so driven, 
for the word would shut him out. 

" Thus I was always sinking, whatever I did think or do. 



160 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

So one day I walked to a neighbouring town, and sat down 
upon a settle in the street, and fell into a very deep pause 
about the most fearful state my sin had brought me to ; and 
after long musing, I lifted up my head, but methought I saw, 
as if the sun that shineth in the heavens did grudge to give 
light ; and as if the very stones in the street, and tiles upon the 
houses, did bend themselves against me. Methought that they 
all combined together to banish me out of the world. I was 
abhorred of them, and unfit to dwell among them, or be 
partaker of their benefits, because I had sinned against the 
Saviour. O how happy now was every creature to what I 
was ! For they stood fast, and kept their station, but I was 
gone and lost. 

" Then breaking out in the bitterness of my soul, I said to 
my soul with a grievous sigh, ' How can God comfort such a 
wretch !' I had no sooner said it, but this returned upon me, 
as an echo doth answer a voice, ' This sin is not unto death.' 
At which I was as if I had been raised out of the grave, and 
cried out again, ' Lord, how couldst thou find out such a word 
as this !' For I was filled with admiration at the fitness, and 
at the unexpectedness of the sentence ; the fitness of the word, 
the rightness of the timing of it ; the power, and sweetness, 
and light, and glory that came with it also, were marvellous 
to me to find. I was now, for the first time, out of doubt, as 
to that about which I was so much in doubt before : my fears 
before were, that my sin was not pardonable, and so that I had 
no right to pray, to repent, &c., or that if I did, it would be 
of no advantage or profit to me. But now, thought I, if this 
sin is not unto death, then it is pardonable ; therefore from 
this I have encouragement to come to God by Christ for mercy 
to consider the promise of forgiveness, as that which stands 
with open arms to receive me, as well as others. This, there- 
fore, was a great easement to mind, to wit, that my sin was 
pardonable, that it was not the sin unto death. ' If any man 
see his brother sin a sin which is not unto death, he shall ask, 
and he shall give him life for them that sin not unto death. 
There is a sin unto death, I do not say that ye shall pray for 
it. All unrighteousness is sin ; and there is a sin not unto 
death.' 1 John, v. 16, 17. None but those that know Avhat 
my trouble (by their own experience) was, can tell what relief 
came to my soul by this consideration : it was a release to me 
from my former bonds, and a shelter from my former storms : 
T seemed now to stand upon the same ground with other sin- 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 161 

ners, and to have as good right to the word and prayers as any 
of them. 

" Now I say, I was in hopes that my sin was not unpardon- 
able, but that there might be hopes for me to obtain forgiveness. 
But, oh ! how Satan did now lay about him for to bring me 
down again ! But he could by no means do it, neither this 
day, nor the most part of the next, for this sentence stood like 
a mill-post at my back. Yet towards the evening of the next 
day, I felt this word begin to leave me, and to withdraw its 
supportation from me, and so I returned to my old fears again ; 
but with a great deal of grudging and peevishness, for I feared 
the sorrow of despair, nor could my faith now long retain this 
word. 

" But the next day at evening, being under many fears, I 
went to seek the Lord, and as I prayed, I cried, and my soul 
cried to him in these words, with strong cries : ' O Lord, I 
beseech thee, show me that thou hast loved me with everlast- 
ing love.' I had no sooner said it, but with sweetness this re- 
turned upon me, as an echo, or sounding again, ' I have loved 
thee with an everlasting love.' Now I went to bed in quiet ; 
also when I awaked the next morning, it was fresh upon my 
soul ; and I believed it. 

" But yet the tempter left me not, for it could not be so little 
as an hundred times, that he, that day, did labour to break my 
peace. Oh ! the combats and conflicts that I did then meet 
with ; as I strove to hold by this word, that of Esau would fly 
in my face like lightning : I should be sometimes up and down 
twenty times in an hour ; yet God did bear me out, and keep 
my heart upon this word ; from which I had also, for several 
days together, very much sweetness, and comfortable hopes of 
pardon. For thus it was made out unto me, ' I loved thee 
whilst thou wast committing this sin, I loved thee before, 1 love 
thee still, and I will love thee for ever.' 

" Yet I saw my sin most barbarous, and a filthy crime, and 
could not but conclude, with great shame and astonishment, 
that I had horribly abused the holy Son of God : wherefore, I 
felt my soul greatly to love and pity him, and my bowels to 
yearn towards him ; for I saw he was still my friend, and did 
reward me good for evil ; yea, the love and affection that then 
did burn within me to my Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, did 
work at this time such a stron<? and hot desire o? revensement 
upon myself for the abuse I had done unto him, that to speak 
as I then thought, had I a thousand gallons of blood within my 

14* 



162 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

veins, I could freely then have spilt it all, at the command and 
feet of this my Lord and Saviour. 

" And as I was thus a musing, and in my studies, consider- 
ing how to love the Lord, and to express my love to him, that 
saying came in upon me, ' If thou, Lord, shouldst mark iniqui- 
ties, O Lord, who should stand ? But there is forgiveness with 
thee, that thou may est be feared.' These were good words to 
me, especially the latter part thereof; to wit, that there is for- 
giveness with the Lord, that he might he feared ; that is, as I 
then understood it, that he might be loved, and had in reve- 
rence ; for it was thus made out to me — ' That the great God 
did set so high an esteem upon the love of his poor creatures, 
that rather than he would go without their love, he would par- 
don their transgressions.' 

" And now was that word fulfilled on me, and I was also re- 
freshed by it : ' Then shall they be ashamed and confounded, 
and never open their mouths any more, because of their shame, 
when I am pacified towards them, for all that they have done, 
saith the Lord God.' Ezek. xvi. 36. Thus was my soul at this 
time (and as I then did think for ever) set at liberty from being 
afiiicted with my former guilt and amazement. 

■ " But before many weeks were gone, I began to despond 
again ; fearing, lest, notwithstanding all that I had enjoyed, 
that I might be deceived and destroyed at the last : for this 
consideration came strong into my mind — ' that whatever com- 
fort and peace I thought I might have from the word of the 
promise of life, yet unless there could be found in my refresh- 
ment, a concurrence and agreement in the Scriptures, let me 
think what I will thereof, and hold it never so fast, I should 
find no such thing at the end ; for the Scriptures cannot be 
broken.' 

" Now began my heart again to ache, and fear I might meet 
with a disappointment at last. Wherefore I began with all 
seriousness to examine my former comfort, and to consider 
whether one that had sinned as I had done, might with confi- 
dence trust upon the faithfulness of God, laid down in these 
words, by which I had been comforted, and on which I had 
leaned myself. But now were brought to my mind, ' For it is 
impossible for those who were once enlightened, and have 
tasted the heavenly gift, and were made partakers of the Holy 
Ghost, and have tasted the good word of God, and the powers 
of the world to come, if they shall fall away, to renew them 
again unto repentance, — For, if we sin wilfully, after we have 



LIFE OP BUNYAN. 163 

received the knowledge of the truth, there remains no more 
sacrifice for sin, but a certain fearful looking-for of judgment, 
and fiery indignation, which shall devour the adversaries. — 
Even as Esau, who for one morsel of meat sold his birthright. 
For ye know how that afterwards, when he would have inhe- 
rited the blessing, he was rejected ; for he found no place of 
repentance, though he sought it carefully with tears.' 

" Now was the word of the gospel forced from my soul ; so 
that no promise or encouragement was to be found in the Bible 
for me. And now would that saying work upon my spirit to 
afflict me, ' Rejoice not, O Israel, for joy, as other people.' 
For I saw, indeed, there was cause of rejoicing for those that 
held to Jesus; but for me, I had cut myself off by my transgres- 
sions, and left myself neither foot-hold, nor hand-hold, among 
all the stays and props in the precious word of life. 

" And truly, I did now feel myself to sink into a gulph, as a 
house whose foundation is destroyed : I did liken myself in this 
condition, unto the case of a child that was fallen into a 7nilL 
pit, who, though it could make some shifts to scramble and 
sprawl in the water, yet because it could find neither hold for 
hand nor foot, therefore at last it must die in that condition. 
So soon as this fresh assault had fastened on my soul, that 
scripture came into my heart, ^ This for many days.^ And 
indeed I found it was so ; for I could not be delivered, nor 
brought to peace again, until well nigh two years and a half 
were completely finished. Wherefore these words, though in 
themselves they tended to discouragement, yet to me, who 
feared this condition would be eternal, they were at some 
times as a help and refreshment to me. 

" For, thought I, many days are not for ever ; many days 
will have an e7id ; therefore seeing I was to be afflicted not a 
few but many days, yet I was glad it was but for many days. 
Thus, I say, I would recall myself sometimes, and give myself 
a help, for as soon as ever the word came into my mind, at 
first, I knew my trouble would be long, yet this would be but 
sometimes ; for I could not always think on this, nor ever be 
helped by it, though I did. 

" Now while these scriptures lay before me, and laid sin 
anew at my door, that saying, 'And he spake a parable to 
them, to this end, that men ought always to pray, and not to 
faint,' with others, did encourage me to prayer. Then the 
tempter again laid at me very sore, suggesting, ' that neither 
the mercy of God, nor yet the blood of Christ, did at all con- 



164 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

cern me, nor could they help me for my sin ; therefore it was 
in vain to pray.' Yet thought I, ^I will pray,'' < But,' said 
the tempter, 'your sin is unpardonable.' 'Well,' said I, *J 
will pray.'' ' It is to no boot,' said he. * Yet,' said I, ' I will 
pray.'' So I went to prayer to God; and while I was at 
prayer, I uttered words to this effect ; ' Lord, Satan tells me, 
that neither thy mercy, nor Christ's blood, is sufficient to save 
my soul: Lord, shall I honour thee most, by believing thou 
wilt, and canst ? or him, by believing thou neither wilt nor 
canst ? Lord, I would fain honour thee, by believing thou 
wilt and canst.' 

"And as I was thus before the Lord, that scripture fastened 
on my heart, ' O man, great is thy faith,' even as if one had 
clapped me on the back, as I was on my knees before God : 
yet I was not able to believe that this was a prayer of faith, 
till almost six months after ; for I could not think that I had 
faith, or that there should be a word for me to act faith on; 
therefore I should still be, as sticking in the jaws of despera- 
tion, and went mourning up and down in a sad condition. 

" There was nothing now that I longed for more than to be 
put out of doubt, as to this thing in question ; and as I was 
vehemently desiring to know, if there was indeed hope for me, 
these words came rolling into my mind, * Will the Lord cast 
off for ever 1 and will he be favourable no more ? Is his mercy 
clean gone for ever ? Doth his promise fail for evermore ? 
Hath God forgotten to be gracious ? Hath he in anger shut 
up his tender mercies ? ' And all the while they run in my 
mind, methought I had still this as the answer, ' It is a ques- 
tion whether he hath or no : it may be he hath not.' Yea, 
the interrogatory seemed to me to carry in it a sure affirma- 
tion that indeed he had not, nor would so cast off, but would 
be favourable : that his promise doth not fail, and that he hath 
not forgotten to be gracious, nor would in anger shut up his 
tender mercy ! Something also there was upon my heart at 
the same time, which I now cannot call to mind, which, 
with this text, did sweeten my heart, and make me con- 
clude, that his mercy might not be quite gone, nor gone for 
ever. 

"At another time I remember, I was again much under 
this question, 'Whether the blood of Christ was sufficient to 
save my soul 1 ' In which doubt I continued from morning 
till about seven or eight at night : and at last, when I was, as 
it were, quite worn out with fear, lest it should not lay hold on 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 165 

me, these words did sound suddenly within my heart, ' He is 
able.' But methought, this word able, was spoke loud unto 
me ; it showed a great word ; it seemed to be writ in great 
LETTERS, and gave such a jostle to my fear and doubt (I mean 
for the time it tarried with me, which was about a day) as I 
never had from that time, all my life, either before or after. 
' Wherefore he is able also to save them to the uttermost that 
come unto God by him, seeing he ever liveth to make interces- 
sion for them.' 

'•' But one morning as I was again at prayer, and trembling 
under the fear of this, that no word of God could help me, 
that piece of a sentence darted in upon me, ' My grace is suf- 
ficient.' At this, methought, I felt some stay, as if there 
miglit be hope. But, oh ! how good a thing it is for God to 
send his word ! — for about a fortnight before, I was looking 
on this very place, and then I thought it could not come near 
my soul with comfort, therefore^ I threw doivn my book in a pet. 
Then I thought it was not large enough for me ; no, not large 
enough, but now it was as if it had arms of grace so wide, 
that it could not only enclose me, but many more besides ! 

" By these words I was sustained, yet not without exceed- 
ing conflicts, for the space of seven or eight weeks ; for my 
peace would be in and out, sometimes twenty times a day ; 
comfort now, and trouble presently ; peace now, and before I 
could go a furlong, as full of fear and guilt as ever heart could 
hold. And this was not only now and then, but my whole 
seven weeks' experience. For this about the sufficiency of 
grace, and that of Esau's parting with his birthright, would 
be like a pair of Scales within my mind ; sometimes one end 
would be uppermost, and sometimes again the other ; accord- 
ing to which would be my peace or troubles. 

" Therefore I did still pray to God, that he would come in 
with this scripture more fully on my heart ; to wit, that he 
would help me to apply the ichole sentence, for as yet I could 
not. That he gave, that I gathered ; but further I could not 
go, for as yet it only helped me to hope there might be mercy 
for me. ' My grace is sufficient.' And though it came no 
further, it answered my former question ; to wit. That there 
was hope ; yet bec«ause ' for thee,' was left out, I was not con- 
tented, but prayed to God for that also. Wherefore, one day, 
when I was in a meeting of God's people, full of sadness and 
terror, for my fears again were strong upon me ; and as I was 
now thinking, my soul was never the better, but my case most 



166 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

sad and fearful, these words did with great power suddenly 
break in upon me ; ' My grace is sufficient for thee, my grace 
is sufficient for thee, my grace is sufficient for thee,' three 
times together. And oh ! methought that every word was a 
AEiGHTY word unto me, as my, and grace, and sufficient, and 
for thee ; they were then, and sometimes are still, far bigger 
than others be. 

" At which time my understanding was so enlightened, that 
I was as though I had seen the Lord Jesus look down from 
heaven, through the tiles upon me, and direct these words unto 
me. This sent me mourning home ; it broke my heart, and 
filled me full of joy, and laid me low as the dust ; only it stayed 
not long with me ; — I mean in this glory and refreshing com- 
fort ; yet it continued with me for several weeks, and did 
encourage me to hope. But as soon as that powerful opera- 
tion of it was taken from my heart, that other, about Esau, 
returned upon me as before : so my soul did hang as in a pair 
of scales again, sometimes up, and sometimes down ; now in 
peace, and anon again in terror. 

" Thus I went on for many weeks, sometimes comforted, 
and sometimes tormented ; and especially at some times my 
torment would be very sore ; for all those scriptures afore- 
named in the Hebrews, would be set before me, as the only 
sentences that would keep me out of heaven. Then again I 
would begin to repent that ever that thought went through 
me. I would also think thus with myself; ' Why, how many 
scriptures are there against me ? There are but three or four. 
And cannot God 7niss them, and save me for all them? ' Some- 
times again I would think, Oh ! if it were not for these three 
or four words, now how might I be comforted ! And I could 
hardly forbear at some times, to wish them out of the book. 

" Then methought I should see as if both Peter and Paul, 
and John, and all the writers, did look with scorn upon me, 
and hold me in derision ; and as if they had said unto me, 
' All our words are truth ; one of as much force as the other. 
It is not we that have cut you off, but you have cast away 
yourself. There is none of our sentences that you must take 
hold upon, but these, and such as these : — " It is impossible, 
there remains no more sacrifice for sin. — And it had been 
better for them not to have known the will of God, than after 
they had known it, to turn from the holy commandment deliv- 
ered unto them, for the Scriptures cannot be broken." ' 

" These, as the elders of the city of refuge, I saw, were to 



I 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 167 

be judges both of my case and me, while I stood with the aven- 
ger of blood at my heels, trembling at their gate for deliver- 
ance : also with a thousand fears and mistrusts, I doubted 
that they would shut me out for ever. ' They shall be your 
refuge from the avenger of blood. And when he that doth 
flee unto one of those cities shall stand at the entering of the 
gate of the city, and shall declare his cause in the ears of the 
elders of the city, they shall take him into the city unto them, 
and give him a place that he may dwell among them.' Jos. 
XX. 6, 4. 

" Thus was I confounded, not knowing what to do, or how 
to be satisfied in this question, * Whether the Scriptures could 
agree in the salvation of my soul ? ' I quaked at the. apos- 
ties ; I knew their words were true, and that they must stand 
for ever. 

" And I remember one day, as I was in divers frames of 
spirit, and considering that these frames were according to the 
nature of several scriptures that came in upon my mind ; if 
this of grace, then was I quiet, but if that of Esau, then tor- 
mented. Lord, thought I, ' if both these scriptures should 
meet in my heart at once, I wonder which of them would get 
the better of me.' So methought I had a longing mind that 
they might come both together upon me ; yea, I desired of 
God they might. 

" Well, about two or three days after, so they did indeed : 
they bolted both upon me at a time, and did work and struggle 
strongly in me for a while. At last, that about Esau's birth- 
right began to wax weak, and withdraw, and vanish ; and this 
about the sufficiency of grace prevailed with peace and joy. 
And as I was in a muse about this thing, that scripture came 
in upon me, ' Mercy rejoiceth over judgment.' 

" This was a wonderment to me ; yet truly, I am apt to 
think it was of God ; for the word of the law and wrath, must 
give place to the word of life and grace ; because, though the 
word of condemnation be glorious, yet the word of life and sal- 
vation doth far exceed in glory, as it is written, 'How shall 
not the ministration of the Spirit be rather glorious. For if 
the ministration of condemnation be glorious, much more doth 
the ministration of righteousness exceed in glory. For even 
that which was made glorious, had no glory in this respect, by 
reason of the glory that excelleth. — And Peter answered and 
said to Jesus, Master, it is good for us to be hero, and let us 
make three tabernacles, one for thee, and one for Moses, and 



168 



LIFE OF BtlNYAN 



one for Elias. For he wist not what to say, for he was sore 
afraid. And there was a cloud overshadowed them, and a 
voice came out of the cloud, saying, This is my beloved Son, 
hear him.' Then I saw that Moses and Elias must both van- 
ish, and leave Christ and his saints alone. 

« That scripture did also most sweetly visit my soul ; ' and 
him that cometh to me, I will in no wise cast out. Oh the 
comfort that I had from this word, in no wise ! As who should 
say — ' Bv no means, for nothing whatever he hath done. 15ut 
Satkn would greatly labour to pull/his promise from me, tell- 
inff of me, ' That Christ did not mean me and such as 1, but 
sinners of a lower rank, that had not done as I had done. But 
I would answer him again, ' Satan, here is in these words no 
such exception ; but him that comes, him, any him : " Him that 
cometh to me, I will in no wise cast out." ' And this I well 
remember still, that of all the sleights that Satan used to take 
this scripture from me, yet he never did so much as put this 
question; ' but do you come aright ]' And I have thought the 
reason was, because he thought I knew full well what coming 
aright was ; for I saw that to come aright, was to come as 1 
was, a vile and ungodly sinner, and so cast myself at the feet 
of mercy, condemning myself for sin. If ever Satan and I 
did strive for any word of God in all my life, it was for this 
good word of Christ ; he at one end, and I at the other. Oh ! 
Ihat work we made ! It was for this in John, I say that ^ve 
did so tug and strive ; he pidled and I imlled : But God be 
praised, I overcame him ; I got sweetness from it. 

" But notwithstanding all these helps, and blessed words of 
srace, yet that of Esau's selling of his birthright, would still 
at times distress my conscience: for though I had been most 
sweetly comforted, and that but just before, yet when it came 
into my mind, it would make me fear again : I could not be 
auite rid thereof, it would every day be with me : wherefore 
now I went another way to work, even to consider the nature 
of this blasphemous thought ; I mean, if I should take the 
words at the largest, and give them their own natural force 
and scope, even every word therein. So when I had thus 
cons dered, I found, that if they were fairly taken they would 
amount to this : ' That I had freely left the Lord Jesus Christ 
to his choice, whether he would be my Saviour or no ; for the 
wicked words were these, ^ Let him go if he will.' Then that 
ToriDture gave me hope, ' I will never leave thee, nor forsake 
thee^' ' O Lord,' said I, ' but I have left thee.' Then it an. 



LIFE OP BUN YAN. 169 

swered again, < But I will not leave thee.^ For this I thanked 
God also. 

" Yet I was grievously afraid He should, and found it ex- 
ceeding hard to trust him, seeing I had so offended him. I 
could have been exceeding glad that this thought had never 
befallen ; for then I thought I could with more ease and free- 
dom in abundance have leaned on his grace. I saw it was 
with me, as it was with Joseph's brethren ; the guilt of their 
own wickedness did often fill them with fears that their brother 
would at last despise them. 

" Yet above all the scriptures that I yet did meet with, that 
in Joshua xx. was the greatest comfort to me, which speaks of 
the slayer that was to flee for refuge : * And if the avenger of 
blood pursue the slayer, then saith Moses, they that are the 
elders of the city of refuge shall not deliver him into his hands, 
because he smote his neighbour unwittingly, and hated him not 
aforetime.' Oh ! blessed be God for this word. I was con- 
vinced that I was the slayer ; and that the avenger of blood 
pursued me, I felt with great terror ; only now it remained 
that I inquire, whether I have a right to enter the city of re- 
fuge. So I found, that he must not, ' who lay in wait to shed 
blood :' it was not the wilful murderer, but he who unwittingly 
did it, he who did it unawares ; not out of spite, or grudge, or 
malice, he that shed it unwittingly : even he who did not hate 
his neighbour before. Wherefore, I thought verily I was the 
man that must enter, because I had smitten my neighbour ' un- 
wittingly, and hated him not aforetime.* I hated him not 
aforetime ; no, I prayed unto Him, was tender of sinning 
against him ; yea, and against this wicked temptation I had 
strove for twelve months before ; yea, and also when it did 
pass through my heart, it did in spite of my teeth : wherefore 
I thought I had a right to enter this city, and the elders, which 
are the apostles, were not to deliver me up. This, therefore, 
was great comfort to me, and gave me much ground of hope. 

" Yet being very critical, for ray smart had made me that I 
knew not what ground was sure enough to bear me, I had one 
question that my soul did much desire to be resolved about ; 
and that was, ' Whether it be possible for any soul that hath 
sinned the unpardonable sin, yet after that to receive though 
but the least true spiritual comfort from God through Christ V 
The which after I had much considered I found the answer 
was, 'No, they could not ;' and that for these reasons : 

*'First, Because those that have sinned that sin, are debarred 

15 



170 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

a share in the blood of Christ, and being shut out of that, they 
must needs be void of the least ground of hope, and so of spi- 
ritual comfort ; < For to such there remains no more sacrifice 
for sin.' Secondly, Because they are denied a share in the 
promise of life : ' They shall never be forgiven, neither in this 
world, nor in that which is to come.' Thirdly, The Son of 
God excludes them also from a share in his blessed intercession, 
being for ever ashamed to own them, both before his holy Fa- 
ther, and the blessed angels in heaven. 

" When I had with much deliberation considered of this 
matter, and could not but conclude that the Lord had comfort- 
ed me, and that too after this my wicked sin : then, methought, 
I durst venture to come nigh unlo those most fearful and ter- 
rible scriptures, with which all this while I had been so greatly 
affrighted, and on which indeed, before I durst scarce cast 
mine eyes (yea, had much ado an hundred times, to forbear 
wishing them out of the Bible,) for I thought they would de- 
stroy me : but now, I say, I began to take some measure of 
encouragement, to come close to them to read them, and con- 
sider them, and to weigh their scope and tendency. 

"The which when I began to do, I found their visage 
changed ; for they looked not so grimly, as before I thought 
they did. And, first, I came to the seventh of the Hebrews, 
yet trembling for fear it should strike me ; which when I had 
considered, 1 found that the falling there intended, was a fall- 
ing quite away ; and is as I conceived, a falling from, and ab- 
solute denying of the gospel, of remission of sins by Jesus 
Christ ; for, from them the apostle begins his argument, verso 
1, 2, 3. Secondly, I found that this falling away must be 
openly, even in the view of the world, even so as ' to put Christ 
to an open shame.' Thirdly^ I found those he there intended, 
were for ever shut up of God both in blindness, hardness, and 
impenitency : ' It is impossible they should be renewed again 
unto repentance.' By all the particulars, I found, to God's 
everlasting praise, my sin wavS not the sin in this place in- 
tended. 

''First, I confessed I was fallen, but not fallen away ; that 
is, from the profession of faith in Jesus unto eternal life. 

''Secondly, I confessed that 1 had put Jesus Christ to shame 
by my sin, but not to open shame ; I did not deny him before 
men, or condemn him as a fruitless one before the world. 

"Thirdly, Nor did I find that God had shut me up, or denied 
me to come (though I found it hard work indeed to come) to 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 171 

him by sorrow and repentance : blessed be God for unsearch- 
able grace. 

" Then I considered that in the tenth chapter of the He- 
brews, the 26th, 27th, 28th, and 29th verses, and found that 
the wilful sin there mentioned, is not every wilful sin, but that 
which doth throw off Christ, and then his commandments too. 
Secondly, That must be done also openly, before two or three 
witnesses, to answer that of the law, verse 28. Thirdly, This 
sin cannot be committed, but with great despite done to the 
Spirit of grace ; despising both the dissuasions from that sin, 
and the persuasions to the contrary. But the Lord knows, 
though this my sin was devilish, yet it did not amount to these. 
"And as touching that in the 12th chapter of the Hebrews, 
about Esau's selling of his birthright : though this was that 
which killed me, and stood like a spear against me, yet now I 
did consider, First, That his was not a hasty thought against 
the continual labour of his mind, but a thought consented to, 
and put in practice likewise, and that after some deliberation. 
Gen. XXV. Secondly, It was a public and open action, even 
before his brother, if not before many more ; this made his 
sin of a far more heinous nature, than otherwise it would have 
been. Thirdly, He continued to slight his birthright : he did 
eat and drink, and went his way : thus Esau despised his 
birthright ; yea, twenty years after he was found to despise it 
still. And Esau said, 'I have enough, my brother, keep 
that thou hast thyself.' 

" Now as touching this, that Esau ' sought a place of repen- 
tance ;' thus I thought : Firsts This was not for the birthright ^ 
but the blessing : this is clear from the apostle, and is distin- 
guished by Esau himself, he hath taken away my birthright 
(that is, formerly;) and now he hath taken away my blessing 
also. Secondly, Now this being thus considered, I came again 
to the apostle, to see what might be the mind of God, in a New 
Testament style and sense, concerning Esau's sin ; and so far 
as I could conceive, this was the mind of God, that the birth- 
right signified regeneration, and the blessing, the eternal 
inheritance ; for so the Apostle seems to hint. ' Lest there be 
any profane person, as Esau, who for one morsel of meat, sold 
his birthright ;' as if he should say, that shall cast off all those 
blessed beginnings of God, that at present are upon him, in 
order to a new birth ; lest they become as Esau, even be 
rjejected afterwards, when they should inherit the blessing. 



172 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

"For many there are, who in the day of grace and mercy, 
despise those things which are indeed the birthright to heaven, 
who yet when the deciding day appears, will cry as loud as 
Esau, ' Lord, Lord, open to us ; but then, as Isaac would not 
repent, no more will God the Father, but will say, ' I have 
blessed these, yea, and they shall be blessed ;' but as for you, 

* Depart, you are the workers of iniquity.' 

" When I had thus considered these scriptures, and found 
that thus to understand them, was not against, but according 
to other scriptures ; this still added further to my encourage- 
ment and comfort, and also gave a great blow to that objection, 
to wit, ' That the scriptures could not agree in the salvation of 
my soul.' And now remained only the hinder part of the 
tempest, for the thunder was gone beyond me, only some 
drops did still remain, that now and then would fall upon me ; 
but because my former frights and anguish were very sore 
and deep, therefore it oft befell me still, as it befalleth those 
that have been scared with fire ; — I thought every voice was 
fire ! fire ! Every little touch would hurt my tender con- 
science. 

" But one day, as I was passing into the field, and that too 
with some dashes on my conscience, fearing lest yet all was not 
right, suddenly this sentence fell upon my soul, ' Thy right- 
eousness is in heaven ;' and methought withal, I saw with 
the eyes of my soul, Jesus Christ at God's right hand ; 
there, I say, was my righteousness ; so that wherever I was, 
or whatever I was doing, God could not say of me, ' He wants 
my righteousness ;' for that was just before him. I also saw 
moreover, that it was not my good frame of heart that made 
my righteousness better, nor yet my bad frame that made my 
righteousness worse ; for my righteousness was Jesus Christ 
himself, 'The same yesterday, to-day, and forever.' 

" Now did my chains fall off my legs indeed ; I was loosed 
from my afflictions and irons ; my temptations also fled away ; 
so that from that time those dreadful scriptures of God left off 
to trouble me : now went I also home rejoicing, for the grace 
and love of God ; so when I came home, I looked to see if I 
could find that sentence; 'Thy righteousness is in heaven,' 
but could not find such a saying ; wherefore my heart began 
to sink again, only that was brought to my remembrance, 

* He is made unto us of God, wisdom, righteousness, sanctifica- 
tion and redemption :' by this word I saw the other sentence 
true. 



LIFEOPBUNYAN. 173 

*' For by this scripture I saw that the man Christ Jesus, as 
he is distinct from us, as touching his bodily presence, so he 
is our righteousness and sanctification before God. Here, 
therefore I lived, for some time, very sweetly at peace with 
God through Christ ; oh ! methouo-ht Christ ! Christ ! there 
was nothing but Christ that was before my eyes : I was not 
now (only) for looking upon this and the other benefits of 
Christ apart, as of his blood, burial, or resurrection, but con- 
sidering him as a whole Christ ! — as he in whom all these, 
and all other his virtues, relations, offices, and operations 
met together, and that he sat on the right hand of God in 
heaven. 

" 'Tvvas glorious to me to see his exaltation, and the worth 
and prevalency of all his benefits; and that, because now I 
could look from myself to him, and would reckon, that all 
those graces of God that now were green on me, were yet but 
like those cracked groats and fourpence-half pennies^ that rich 
men carry in their purses, when their gold is in their trunks 
at home ! Oh ! I saw my gold was in my trunk at home ! In 
Christ my Lord and Saviour. Now Christ was all ; all my 
righteousness, all my sanctification, and all my redemption. 

"Further, the Lord did also lead me into the mystery 
of Union with the Son of God ; that I was joined to him, ' that 
I was flesh of his flesh, and bone of his bone ;' for now was 
that word of St. Paul sweet to me. By this also was my faith 
in him, as my righteousness, the more confirmed in me ; for 
if he and I were one, then his righteousness was mine, his 
merits mine, his victory also mine. Now could I see myself 
in heaven and earth at once : in heaven by Christ, by my 
head, by my righteousness and life, though on earth by my 
body or person. 

" Now I saw, that Christ Jesus was looked upon of God : 
and should also be looked upon by us, as that common or public 
person, in whom all the whole body of his elect are always to 
be considered and reckoned ; that we fulfilled the law by him, 
died by him, rose from the dead by him, got the victory over 
sin, death, the devil, and hell, by him ; when he died, we died, 
and so of his resurrection. * Thy dead men shall live, together 
with my dead body they shall rise,' saith he. And again, 
' after two days he will revive us, and the third day we shall 
live in his sight.' Which is now fulfilled, by the sitting down 
of the Son of man on the right hand of the majesty in the 
heavens, according to that to the Ephesians, ' He hath raised 
15* 



174 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

us up together and made us to sit together in heavenly places 
in Christ Jesus.' 

" Oh ! these blessed considerations and scriptures, with 
many others of like nature, were in those days made to spangle 
in mine eye, so that I have cause to say, ' Praise ye the Lord 
God in his sanctuary, praise him in the firmament of his pow- 
er ; praise him for his mighty acts ; praise him according to 
his excellent greatness.' Psal. cl. 1, 2. 

" Having thus in a few words given you a taste of the sorrow 
and affliction that my soul went under, by the guilt and terror 
that these my wicked thoughts did lay me under ; and having 
given you also a touch of my deliverance therefrom, and of the 
sweet and blessed comfort that I met with afterwards, which 
comfort dwelt about a twelemonth with my heart, to my 
unspeakable admiration : I will now, (God willing,) before I 
proceed any farther, give you in a word or two, what, as I 
conceive, was the cause of this temptation ; and also after that, 
what advantage, at the last, it became unto my soul. 

" For the causes, I conceived they were principally two : of 
which two also I was deeply convinced all the time this trou- 
ble lay upon me. The first was, for that I did not, when I 
was delivered from the temptation that went before, still pray 
to God to keep me from the temptations that were to come ; 
for though, as I can say in truth, my soul was much in prayer 
before this trial seized me, — yet then I prayed only, or at the 
most principally, for the removal of present troubles, and for 
fresh discoveries of his love in Christ, which I saw afterwards 
was not enough to do ; I also should have prayed that the 
great God would keep me from the evil that was to come. 

"Of this I was made deeply sensible by the prayer of 
holy David, who when he was under present mercy, yet pray- 
ed that God would hold him back from sin and temptation to 
come ; ' For then,' saith he, ' shall I be upright, and I shall be 
innocent of the great transgression.' By this very word was 
I galled and condemned, quite through this long temptation. 

" That was also another word that did much condemn me 
for my folly, in the neglect of this duty. ' Let us therefore, 
come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain 
mercy, and find grace to help in time of need.' This I had 
not done, and therefore was thus suffered to sin and fall, accord- 
ing to what is written, <Pray that ye enter not into tempta- 
tion.' And truly this very thing is to this day of such weight 
and awe upon me, that I dare not, when I come before the 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 175 

Lord, go off my knees, until I entreat him for help and mercy 
against the temptations that are to come : — and I do beseech 
thee, reader, that thou learn to beware of my negligence, by 
the afflictions, that for this thing I did for days, and months, 
and years, with sorrow undergo. 

" Another cause of this temptation was, that I had tempted 
God : and on this manner did I do it : upon a time my wife 
was great with child, and before her full time was come, her 
pangs, as of a woman in travail, were fierce and strong upon 
her, even as she would immediately have fallen into la- 
bour, and been delivered of an untimely birth : now at this 
very time it was, that I had been so strongly tempted to ques- 
tion the being of God ; wherefore, as my wife lay crying by 
me, I said, but with all secresy imaginable (even thinking in 
my heart,) ' Lord, if now thou wilt remove this sad affliction 
from my wife, and cause that she be troubled no more there- 
with this night, (and now were her pangs just upon her,) then 
I shall know that thou canst discern the most secret thoughts 
of the heart.' 

" I had no sooner said it in my heart, but her pangs were 
taken from her, and she was cast into a deep sleep, and so 
continued till morning ; at this I greatly marvelled, not know- 
ing what to think; but after I had been awake a good while^ 
and heard her cry no more, I fell asleep also ; so when I awak- 
ed in the morning, it came upon me again, even what I had 
said in my heart the last night, and how the Lord had showed 
me, that he knew my secret thoughts ; which was a great 
astonishment unto me for several weeks after. 

" Well, about a year and a half afterwards, that wicked sinful 
thought, of which I have spoken before, went through my 
wicked heart, even this thought, 'let Christ go if he will ;' so 
when I was fallen under the guilt of this, the remembrance of 
my other thought, and of the effect thereof, would also come 
upon me with this retort, which also carried rebuke along with 
it, ' now you may see, that God doth know the 7nost secret 
thoughts of the heart.' 

" And with this, that of the passages that were betwixt the 
Lord and his servant Gideon, fell upon my spirit ; how 
because that Gideon tempted God with his fleece, both wet 
and dry, when he should have believed and ventured upon his 
words ; therefore, the Lord did afterwards so try him, as to 
send him against an innumerable company of enemies, and 
that too, as to outward appearance, without any strength or 



176 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

help* Thus he served me, and that justly, for I should have 
believed his word, and not have put an if upon the all-seeing- 
ness of God. 

" And now to show you something of the advantages that I 
also have gained by this temptation ; and first, by this I was 
made continually to possess in my soul a very wonderful sense 
both of the blessing and the glory of God, and of his beloved 
Son ; in the temptation that went before, my soul was per- 
plexed with unbelief, blasphemy, and hardness of heart, ques- 
tions about the being of God, Christ, the truth of the word, and 
certainty of the world to come : I say, then I was greatly as- 
saulted and tormented with atheism; — but now the case was 
otherwise ; now was God and Christ continually before my face 
though not in a way of comfort, but in a way of exceeding 
dread and terror. The glory of the holiness of God, did at 
this time break me to pieces ; and the bowels and compassion 
of Christ did break me as on the wheel ; for I could not con- 
sider him but as a lost and rejected Christ, the remembrance 
of whom, was as the continual breaking of my bones. 

" The Scriptures also were wonderful things unto me ; I 
saw that the truth and verity of them were the keys of the 
kingdom of heaven ; those that the Scriptures favour, they 
must inherit bliss; but those that they oppose and condemn, 
must perish for evermore. Oh ! this word, ' For the Scrip- 
tures cannot be broken,' would rend the caul of my heart : and 
so would that other. ^ * Whose sins ye remit, they are remitted ; 
but whose sins ye retain, they are retained.' Now I saw the 
apostles to be the elders of the city of refuge. Those that 
they were to receive in, were received to life ; but those that 
they shut out were slain by the avenger of blood. 

"Oh! one sentence of the Scripture did more afflict and 
terrify my mind, I mean those sentences that stood against 
me (as sometimes I thought they every one did) more, I say, 
than an army of forty thousand men that might come against 
me. Wo be to him against whom the Scriptures bend them- 
selves ! 

" By this temptation I was made to see more into the nature 
of the promises than ever I had before, for I lying now trem- 
bling under the mighty hand of God, continually torn and 
rent by the thundering of his justice : — this made me with care- 
ful heart, and watchful eye, and great fearfulness, to turn 
over every leaf, and with much diligence, mixed with trem- 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 177 

bling, to consider every sentence, together with its natural 
force and latitude. 

" By this temptation also I was greatly holden off from my 
former foolish practice oi putting hy the word of promise when 
it came into my mind ; for now, though I could not suck that 
comfort and sweetness from the promise, as I had done at 
other times, yet like to a man sinking, I would catch at all I 
saw ; formerly I thought I might not meddle with the promise, 
unless I felt its comfort ; but now 'twas no time thus to do ; 
the avenger of blood too hardly did pursue me ! 

" Now therefore was I glad to catch at that word which 
yet I feared I had no ground or right to own ; and even to leap 
into the hosom of that promise, that yet I feared did shut its 
heart against me. Now also I would labour to take the word 
as God hath laid it down, without restraining the natural 
force of one syllable thereof. O what did I see in that blessed 
sixth chapter of St. John : ' And him that cometh to me I 
will in no wise cast out.' Now I began to consider with my- 
self, that God had a bigger mouth to speak with than I had a 
heart to conceive with ; I thought also with myself, that he 
spake not his words in haste, or in an unadvised heat, but 
with infinite wisdom and judgment, and in very truth and 
faithfulness. 

" I would in these days, often in my greatest agonies even 
Jloiince towards the promise (as the horses do towards sound 
ground, that yet stick in the mire,) concluding (though as one 
almost bereft of his wits through fear) on this will I rest and 
stay, and leave the fulfilling of it to the God of heaven that 
made it. Oh ! many a pull hath my heart had with Satan, 
for that blessed sixth chapter of St. John : I did not now, as 
at other times, look principally for comfort^ though, O how 
welcome would it have been unto me ! But now a word, a 
word to lean a weary soul upon, that it might not sink for 
ever! — 'twas that I hunted for. 

=' Yea, often when I have been making to the promise, I 
have seen as if the Lord would refuse my soul for ever ; I was 
often as if I had run upon the pikes, and as if the Lord had 
thrust at me, to keep me from him, as with a flaming sword. 
Then would I think of Esther, who went to petition the king 
contrary to the law, ' So will I go in unto the king, which is 
not according to law, and if I perish I perish.' I thought also 
of Benhadad's servants, who went with ropes upon their heads 
to their enemies tor mercy. The woman of Canaan also, 



178 LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 

that would not be daunted, though called dog by Christ : and 
the man that went to borrow bread at midnight, were also 
great encouragements unto me. 

" I never saw those heights and depths in grace, and love 
and mercy, as I saw after this temptation. Great sins do 
draw out great grace ; and where guilt is most terrible and 
fierce, there the mercy of God in'Christ, when showed to the 
soul, appears most high and mighty. When Job had passed 
through his captivity, he had twice as much as he had before. 
Blessed be God for Jesus Christ our Lord. Many other things 
I might here make observation of, but I would be brief, and 
therefore shall at this time omit them ; and do pray God that 
my harms may make others fear to offend, lest they also be 
made to bear the iron yoke as I did. 

« I had two or three times, at or about my deliverance from 
this temptation, such strong apprehensions of the grace of 
God ; that I could hardly bear up under it : it was so out of 
measure amazing, when I thought it could reach me, that I do 
now think if that sense of it had abode long upon me, it would 
have made me incapable for business," 



LIFE OF BUN Y AN, 179 



CHAPTER XV. 

bunyan's baptism. 

1653. 

After having been thus extricated again from the horrible 
pit and miry clay of despair, Bunyan joined Gifford's Church 
in Bedford. This was in 1653. He was then, says Ivimey, 
" about twenty.five years of age." 

! ' It was, it will be recollected, whilst worshipping with this 
little Church, that the promise, " My grace is sufficient for 
thee," seemed to him written in capital letters, and spoken to 
him through the tiles from heaven, by Jesus Christ. This, 
had there been no other strong associations between his mind 
and the Meeting, would have endeared both the place and the 
people to him. Even Elstow Church would have been more 
sacred to him in the days of his superstition than it was, had 
he known that it was founded in honour of Helena, the mo- 
ther of Constantine. Any thing ancient or extraordinary 
had a magnetic charm for his taste. He had, however, other 
and better reasons for uniting himself with Gifford's flock, " to 
walk in the order and ordinances of Christ with them ;" as he 
well describes Church fellowship. The Minister and the peo- 
ple had been his best friends. They had been unable to cheer 
him for years ; but they watched over him, and wept with him, 
all the time. Neither by word or look had they ever betray- 
ed, as he sometimes suspected, a fear to pray for him. In 
like manner, when he offered himself to their fellowship, they 
welcomed him sooner than Gifford himself had been, and ma- 
nifested none of those doubts of his sanity which philosophy 
has insinuated, although they had witnessed all his wildest 
moods. " After I propounded to the Church my desire to 
walk with them, I was admitted by them," is all the account 
he gives of his reception ; but it tells much, highly to their 
credit. Well might Dr. Southey say, " had it not been for 
the encouragement Bunyan received from the Baptists, ho 
might have lived and died a Tinker." 



180 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 



It was not, however, because they were Baptists, but be- 
cause they were serious Christians also, that they took so 
much interest in him. Any orthodox Congregational or Pres- 
byterian Church of that day would have treated him with 
equal tenderness. So would pious Episcopalians, had they 
known him as well as the Baptists did. I much doubt, how- 
ever, if any other orthodox body would have followed up his 
welcome into their fellowship, by calling him out to the mm- 
istry. In throwing out this passing hint, I do not forget that 
the Church at Bedford was not wholly a Baptist Church. Its 
pastor, however, was a Baptist ; and the majority seem to 
have been the same. But they were not strict Baptists. Bun- 
yan himself is a fine specimen of their spirit. He did not 
think it necessary even to mention his baptism, when he wrote 
for them, and dedicated to them, his Autobiography. He 
passes by, in silence, his initiation in the river Ouse : but in 
reference to the Sacrament he exclaims,— " That Scripture, 
« Do this in remembrance of me,' was made a very precious 
word unto me, when I thought of that blessed ordinance, the 
Last Supper : for by it the Lord did come down upon my con- 
science, with the discovery of his death for my sins." Even 
this is not all the singularity of his own account of his joining 
the church : he connects with the Lord's Supper, not with 
Baptism, the only word by which any one could discover him 
to be a Baptist then, viz., " plunged." " I felt as if he plunged 
me in the virtue of" his death. 

Is this accident or design 1 Whichever it may be, the pas* 
sage is curious. It runs thus :— " The Lord did come down 
upon my conscience with the discovery of his death for my 
sins ; and, as I then Mt, plunged me in the virtue of the same." 
There seems to me in this passage, an intended use of terms 
which should express the views of both classes in his church, 
on the mode of baptism ; and yet remind both at the same 
time, that neither mode was the meaning, or the exact emblem 
of being " buried with Christ by baptism into death." I am 
led to this conclusion, not merely because I find words equi- 
valent to both immersion and pouring, transferred from Bap- 
tism to the Lord's Sapper ; but chiefly because this use of 
them agrees with Bunyan's doctrinal theology. For although 
he gave many hard hits at those of" the baptized way," as he 
calls the strict Baptists, this is not one of them. It is an il- 
lustration of his favourite doctrine, " that Jesus Christ is looked 
upon by God, and should be looked upon by us, as that public 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 181 

person (or representative) in whom the whole body of his elect 
are always to be considered and reckoned, as having died with 
him, and risen from the dead with him ;" not when they were 
baptized, but, as Bunyan expresses it, " when He died we died, 
and so of His resurrection." 

The reader need not fear to go through this chapter. It 
will not touch the baptismal controversy ; but merely bring 
out Banyan's opinion and spirit, in a light they have never 
been placed before. Ivimey explains Banyan's studied silence, 
in both the Pilgrim and Grace Abounding, on the subject of 
his baptism, by saying that he made " no aUusion to the event," 
because " the constitution of the church at Bedford did not 
consider baptism by immersion, upon a personal profession of 
faith, as an essential requisite for communion at the Lord's 
Table." This is true ; but it is not half the truth. He did 
not consider baptism as even an initiatory ordinance. He 
reckoned himself, as a believer, to have been put to death, bu- 
ried, and raised again, with Christ, representatively ; and thus 
as having a right to church membership, before he was bap- 
tized. This was his cardinal point ; and it astounded as well 
as offended those of the " water-baptism way," as he calls them. 
They saw the meaning of Paul's doctrine of representation 
chiefly, if not only, in baptism. Bunyan saw it chiefly in the 
Lord's Supper, because that plunged him deepest into fellow- 
ship with the suflferings and death of Christ. 

Bunyan's doctrine of the Saviour's representative character, 
although Paul's, in both its letter and spirit, is almost obsolete 
now ; and this is not the place in which it can be revived. I 
once thought, indeed, that this was just the place in which to 
bring it out with some effect, and free it from the mysticism of 
the old writers : but I have not room. I regret this : for prac- 
tical dying and rising with Christ will never be sufficiently 
bound upon the conscience of Christians, until they see that 
they yfei'eput to death, and laid in the grave, representatively, 
on the great day of atonement. For, all the ignominy and 
shame of the cross and the grave belong to us, as much as all 
the agony and merit of them belong to Christ. It was our 
desert which was exhibited in His sufferings. He was treated 
as we deserve ; that we might be treated as He deserves. 
Whoever will "unloose" this angel of the river of the water 
of life — the Pauline doctrine of representation by both the 
first and second Adam — will both speed the flight of " the 
mighty angel " of the everlasting gospel, and help to bind 

16 



18^ LIFE OF BUi^YAN. 

Satan up from perverting the doctrine of original sin. This 
will not be done, however, by republishing Riccalton on the 
Galatians. Even Luther mistook Paul on this point. 

But to return to Bunyan's own baptism. No one, surely^ 
can regret that he was baptized by immersion ! That was 
just the mode calculated to impress him — practised as it usu- 
ally was then in rivers. He felt the sublimity of the whole 
scene at the Ouse, as well as its solemnity. Gilford's eye 
may have realized nothing on the occasion, but the meaning 
of the ordinance; but Bunyan saw Jordan in the lilied Ouse^ 
and John the Baptist in the holy minister, aud almost the dove 
in the passing birds ; whilst the sun-struck waters flashed 
around and ovei' him, as if the Shechinah had descended upon 
them. For let it not be thought that he was indifferent about 
his baptism, because he was indignant against strict Baptists, 
and laid more stress upon the doctrine it taught than upon its 
symbolic significancy. He lo^ed. immersion, although he hated 
the close ccmmunion of the Baptist churches. The fact is — 
and I mention it wath more than complacency — he alv/ays 
locked back upon this voluntary act of obedience to Christ, 
just as those do upon parental dedication, who, like myself, 
have the high and hallowed consciousness, that we could not, 
by any personal submission to baptism now, exceed, in faith or 
devotion, the intense solicitude of a holy mother, or the solemn 
faith of a godly father, who with united hands and hearts bap- 
tized us into the " one body " of the church of their "God and 
our God." Bunyan could not look hack upon his baptism in 
infancy ^if he was baptized then 1) with either our emotions or 
convictions. We think, therefore, that he did wisely in being 
re-baptized. I think he did right in preferring immersion to 
sprinkling ; not, however, that I believe in;mersion to be right, 
or sprinkling wrong, according to any scriptural ride ; for 
there is none : but because the former suited his tenaperament 
best, inasmuch as it gave him most to do, and thus most to 
think of and feel. For that is the best mode of baptism to any 
man, w hich most absorbs his own mind wdth its meaning and 
design ; now that no man can tell another (for God has not 
told us) what was done by John and the apostles, in the inter- 
val between going down into the w ater, and coming up from 
•the water. Neither the going down, nor the coming up, was 
baptism. That was somethirg intermediate, and performed by 
.the minister. What. — I know not. I respect, therefore, 
equall-y, the man who thinks it was immersion, and the man 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 183 

who thinks it was sprinkling ; because, as they are equally- 
ignorant of the form, they may be equally sincere. Let it not 
be said, that this is either levity or laxness. I revere baptism, 
just as I do the Lord's Supper, in any form. It is not in levity 
nor in laxness, that some churches sit and others kneel at the 
Sacrament ; and yet both postures are a departure from the 
original position ; but neither a departure from the spirit of 
commsmoration. This subject will come up again in the 
chapter on Bunyan and the Baptists. 

It was not chiefly because Gifford's church had been friendly 
to Bunyan, nor because their communion was open, that Bun- 
yan preferred their fellowship ; but because they were a holy 
church. He hated " mixed communion," in the sense of pro- 
miscuous, even more than strict communion. " I dare not," 
he says, " hold communion with them that profess not faith 
and holiness, or that are not visible saints by calling. He that 
is visibly or openly profane, cannot be a saint. He that is a 
visible saint must profess faith and repentance, and conse- 
quently (show) holiness of life: and with none else dare I 
communicate." — Works, p. 277. 

He adds, " Church. communion with the openly profane and 
ungodly poUuteth God's ordinances, it violateth his law, it de- 
fileth his people, and provoketh the Lord to severe and terrible 
judgments." Having proved this at large from both the Old 
and New Testament, he flings to the winds, with withering 
scorn, the pretence, that " the openly profane have always 
been in the church of God." " They were not such when they 
were received into communion," he says ; " and they were 
only retained in order to their admonition ; and if that failed, 
they were to be cut off* from the church," or the church pun- 
ished for harbouring them. — Works, p. 281. 

Such were Bunyan's convictions of the supreme importance 
of open and pure communion in the church, that he said, after 
enduring eleven years' imprisonment fOr non-conformity, — " I 
dare not now revolt, nor deny them, on the pain of eternal 
damnation ! My principles lead me to a denial to communi- 
cate with the ungodly in the things of the kingdom of Christ. 
Neither can I consent that my soul should be governed in any 
of my approaches to God. But if nothing will do (for my 
judges) unless I make my conscience a continual butchery and 
slaughter-shop ; unless, putting out my own eyes, I commit 
me to the blind to lead me — I have determined, the Almighty 



184 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

God being my help and shield, yet to suffer until even the moss 
shall grow on mine eye-brows, if frail life continue so long, rather 
than violate my faith and principles." — Preface to Bnnyan^s 
Confession of Faith. 

These winged words will keep upon the wing for ever. The 
Tinker's protest against human authority and worldly associ- 
ations in the church of Christ, will maintain in that church a 
*' sacramental host," whom power can neither crush nor co- 
erce, nor policy deceive. How true it is, that such " a word 
spoken in season," is a word upon wheels ! Its wheels will go 
rolling down the track of time, without oiling, or wearing out. 
Nothing can stop them, nor turn them out of their course long. 
The Oxford Tracts may exalt the sacrament into a sacrifice, 
and Canon Law keep open the altar to the clean and the un- 
clean, for a time ; but Bunyan's protest will outlive and out- 
law both. Bishop Pearson's personal declaration, " I mean 
that church alone which is both catholic and holy, when I say, 
* I believe in the Holy Catholic Church,' " will become public 
opinion eventually ; and his definition of the " Communion of 
Saints," — " that to communicate with a sinner in that which 
is not sin (the sacrament,) can be no sin," — will not pass long 
for an exposition of the Creed. — Pearson on the Creed. Fol. 
pp. 334, 356. The Protestants of Britain will soon think with 
Jeremy Taylor, that "B.fy can boast of as much privilege as 
a mcked person can receive from this holy feast " (by tasting 
it;) although we may never say o^ it^ in his words, that " it is 
more healthful than rhubarb, more pleasant than cassia: the 
botele and lareca of the Indians, the moly or nepenthe of Pliny, 
the lirinon of the Persians, the balsam of Judea, the manna of 
Israel, the honey of Jonathan, are but weak expressions to tell 
us, that it is excellent above art and nature." — We may not 
speak in this style ; but we shall think in this spirit : and re- 
echo him to the letter, when he says, '" All these must needs fall 
very short of those plain words of Christ, ' This is my Body.* 
Here we must sit down and rest ourselves ; for this ' is the 
Mountain of the Lord,'' and we can go no further." "This 
holy sacrament is a nourishment of spiritual life ; and there- 
fore cannot with effect be ministered to them who are in a 
state of spiritual death. It is giving a cordial to a dead man : 
and, therefore, it were well they abstained from the rite itself.'* 
— Taylor'' s Life of Christ. Dis. 19. Bunyan summed up bis 
own opinion of the sacraments thus : — s 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 185 

" Two Sacraments, I do believe, there be ; 
Even Baptism and the Supper of the Lord: 
Both mysteries Divine, which do to me, 
By God's appointment, benefit afford. 
But shall they be my God ? or shall I have 
Of them so foul and impious a thought. 
To think that from the Curse they can me save ? 
Bread, Wine, nor Water, me no ransom brought !" 

Lunyari's Poems, 



16* 



186 LIFE OF BUN YA 



CHAPTER XVI. 

bunyan's sick bed. 

1654. 

The title of this chapter can hardly surprise the reader. The 
only wonder is, that the facts of it did not occur sooner. For 
as Bunyan was highly nervous, as well as sensitive, his health 
was as much endangered as his spirits, by both the hot and 
cold paroxysms of his despair. Even his happy moments 
were perilous to health ; and will remind Scotchmen of the 
emphatic lines of one of their own poets, 

"Oh, hold my head ! 
This gush o* pleasure 's Uke to be my dead." 

He had, indeed, an iron frame ; and he needed it ; for he had 
a soul of fire. The latter, however, overheated the former at 
last, and for a time seemed consuming it. 

The case was this. The burning sensation at the pit of his 
stomach, which seemed to him calcining or breaking his breast, 
bone, during the crisis of his anguish, was followed by a sink, 
ing which almost incapacitated him for business, when the joy 
of deliverance had expended its force. Another thing which 
hastened on his illness was, the sudden revolution of his sacra- 
mental feelings. They had been, at first, pure and pleasing ; 
but they soon assumed an opposite character. Indeed, the 
transition was tremendous. He says, " I had not long been a 
partaker of that ordinance, but fierce and sad temptations did 
at all times attend me therein, both to blaspheme the ordinance 
itself, and to wish some deadly things to those who then eat 
thereof." No wonder he called this temptation, even although 
there was no " bait." He, accordingly, treated it as such ; — 
not by staying away from the sacrament, but hy forcing him- 
self "to bend in prayer all the while," lest he should "at any 
time be guilty of consenting to these wicked and fearful 
thoughts." For " three-quarters of a year," he was haunted 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 187 

thus, and could " never have rest nor ease," except whilst pray- 
ing to God, "to be kept from such blasphemies," and crying to 
him " to bless the bread and cup from mouth to mouth," 
amongst the communicants. 

It was during this distressing period, that symptoms o^ gal- 
loping Consumption showed themselves about him. He had 
been " something inclined to consumption " before ; but now, 
he was " suddenly and violently seized with such weakness in 
the outward man," that he thought he " could not live." At 
first, the prospect of death did not unman him. It gave a turn 
to his thoughts, which made him " very well and comfortable " 
in his spirit, whenever he was able to crawl out to the Sacra- 
ment. That, however, he was soon unable to do. He, there- 
fore, set himself, according to his " usual course," to a serious 
examination of his spintual state, that he might " keep his in- 
terest in the Life to come, clear before his eyes." 

His own account of the process and result of this self-ex- 
amination, is very affecting : " I had no sooner begun to recall 
to mind my former experience of the goodness of God to my 
soul, but there came Jlocking into my mind an innumerable 
company of my sins and transgressions : amongst which, these 
were at this time most to my affliction ; — my deadness, dul- 
ness, and coldness in my holy duties ; my wanderings of heart, 
my wearisomeness in all good things, my want of love to God, 
his ways and people ; — with this at the end of all, ' Are these 
the fruits of Christianity? Are these the tokens of a blessed 
man V 

" At the apprehension of these things, my sickness was 
doubled upon me ; for I was now sick in mv inward man. My 
soul was clogged with guilt. Now also, all my former experi- 
ence of God's goodness to me was quite taken out of my mind, 
and hid as if it had never been or seen. Now was my soul 
greatly pinched between these two considerations ; — < Live I 
must not ; Die I dare not.' Now I sunk and fell in my spirit, 
and was giving up all for lost. 

" But as I was walking up and down in my house, as a man 
in a most woeful state, (how poor Mrs. Bunyan must have 
watched and wept over these successive scenes of wo !) that 
word of God took hold of my heart, — ' Ye are justified freely 
by His grace, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus.' 
O, what a turn it made upon me ! Now I was as one awaked 
out of some troublesom.e sleep and dream ; and listening to this 
pleasing sentence, I was as if I heard it thus spoken to me, — 



188 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

* Sinner, thou thinkest that because of thy sins and infirmities, 
I cannot save thy soul : but. Behold, my Son is by me, and 
upon Him I look, and not on thee ; and shall deal with thee 
according as I am pleased with him.' At this I was greatly 
enlightened in my mind, and made to understand that God 
could justify a sinner at any time, by looking upon Christ, 
and imputing his merits to us ; and the work was forthwith 
done ! 

" And as I was thus in a muse, that scripture came with 
great power upon my spirit, ' Not by works of righteousness 
that we have done, but according to His mercy he saved us,' 
Tit. iii. 5. Now I was got on high — I saw myself within the 
arms of Grace and Mercy ! Though 1 was before afraid to 
think of a dying hour, yet now I cried, ' Let me die.' Now 
death was lovely and beautiful in my sight ; for I saw that 
we shall never live indeed, till we be gone to the other world. 
O, methought, this life is but a slumber, in comparison with 
that above 1 

" At this time also, I saw more than I shall ever be able to 
express, while I live in this world, in these words, ' Heirs of 
God.' Heirs of God ! himself then is the portion of the saints. 
This I saw and wondered at : but cannot tell you what I 
saw." 

This lasted with him until a severer fit of his illness and 
weakness set him upon another review of his state before God ; 
and all hough the process and the result of this second scruti- 
ny of his heart be much the same as the preceding, they both 
deserve to be recorded, because they help to explain that ap- 
parent anomaly in the Pilgrim, — the Valley of the Shadow of 
Death, at midway in Christian's journey. This is not fully 
explained by what Bunyan felt, when Justice Keeling (Jefferies' 
jackall) told him " plainly, he must stretch by the neck for it,'' 
if he did not submit to the Laws. That threatening made him 
taste " the bitterness of death " in the midst of life ; and was 
thus one reason for placing the Valley midway in the pilgrim- 
age. But it was not the chief reason. He was not then in 
such " bondage to the fear of death," as we now find him. 
Ivimey has illustrated this distinction with much ingenuity, 
although with some confusion, in his,ggNotes to the Pilgrim's 
Progress. Bunyan was not so free from all " distress of soul 
respecting his future salvation," whilst he was " a young pri- 
soner" at Bedford, as Ivimey thought. Still " the sorrows of 
death " although bitter th.en^ were not so lasting as now. " i 



1 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 189 

find," he says, " that Satan is much for assaulting the soul, 
when it begins to approach towards the grave. He did now 
beset me strongly ; labouring to hide from me my former ex- 
perience of God's goodness : also setting before me the Terrors 
of death and judgment, insomuch that, through my fear of 
miscarrying for ever, (should I now die) — I was as one dead 
before death, and as if I felt myself already descending into 
the pit. Methought, I said, there was no way — but to hell I 
must !" 

No wonder Bunyan placed the Valley of the Shadow of 
Death, in the midst of Christian's pilgrimage ! Besides, 
Christian is — himself. By remembering this, his deliver- 
ances from death and the fear of death, at this time, will ex- 
plain the Pilgrim's song, 

*' But since I live let Jesus wear the Crown.*' 

" Just as I was in the midst of those fears," he says, " the 
words about the angels carrying Lazarus into Abraham's bo- 
som, darted in upon me, as if one said, — ' So it shall be with 
thee, when thou dost leave the world.' This did sweetly re- 
vive my spirits, and helped me to hope in God. And when I 
had with comfort mused on this awhile, that Word fell with 
great weight upon my mind, ' O Death, where is thy sting ; O 
Grave, where is thy victory ?' " 

The effect of this strong consolation was as great upon his 
body, as upon his spirits. " I became well in both body and 
mind," he says, " at once : for my sickness did presently 
vanish, and I walked comfortably in my work for God again." 
This is not so strange as it appears at first sight. His illness 
had been brought on by long mental anguish, and had been 
aggravated even by his intervals of joy because they were ex- 
tatic, if not extravagant before : but this joy was a perfect ano- 
dyne, that " sweetly revived his spirits," and just " helped him 
to hope." There was thus no excitement from surprise or 
rapture ; but all was sweet and soothing whilst it lasted. 

His recovery was now rapid and steady. It seems to have 
had but one interruption, and that arose from his mind again. 
Another 

" Change came o'er his spirit." 

" I had been pretty well and savoury in my spirit," he says? 
<* yet suddenly there fell upon me a great cloud of darkness, 



190 LIFEOFBtTNYAN. 

which did so hide from me the things of God and Christ, — 
that I was as if I had never seen or known them in my life. 
I was also so overrun in my soul with a senseless, heartless, 
frame of spirit, that I could not feel my soul to move or stir after 
grace and life by Christ. I was as if my bones were broken, 
or as if my hands and feet were tied or bound with chains. I 
felt at this time some weakness seize upon rny outward man, 
which made the other affliction the more heavy and uncom- 
fortable to me. 

" After I had been in this condition three or four days, as I 
was sitting by the fire (it was now Spring) I suddenly ieli 
this Word sound in my heart, — '/ mvst go to Jesus T At 
this, my former darkness and atheism fled away, and the bles- 
sed things of Heaven were set in my view." He could not, 
however, find the words which thus cheered him. I am not 
sorry that his memory failed him for a moment. We get a 
glimpse of his wife again, whilst it is at fault. " Wife," he said, 
" is there ever such a scripture, — 'I must go to Jesus V " He 
would not have appealed to her thus fondly and familiarly, if 
she had been unacquainted with her Bible. " She said, she 
could not tell." No wonder; the words as he quoted them 
are not in theSciiptures. The idea floating in his mind, was 
drawn from that sublime passage in the Hebrews, xii. 22 :— - 
" Ye are come to Mount Sion, and to Jesus, the Mediator of the 
new covenant." 

After musing " two or three minutes, it came bolting upon 
him," he says, " and Mount Sion was set before " his eyes. 
A fine vision it must have been ! Brighter to him than Car- 
mel to the prophet, when it was encircled and enshrined with 
horses and chariots of fire. His was just the eye to catch the 
vision of 

"^ The Mount of God," 

as it stands crowned with the eternal city, and crowded with 
the general assembly of saints and angels, and irradiated with 
the glory of the tamb. " With joy," he says, " I told my 
wife ; O ! now I know, I know ! I longed also for the com- 
pany of some of God's people, that I might have imparted to 
them what God had showed me. That was a good night to 
me. I never had many better. Christ was precious to my 
soul that night. I could scarce lie in my bed for joy, and 
peace, and triumph, through Christ. This great glory did con- 



life: of BUNYAN. 191 

tinue upon me until the morning. It was a blessed scripture 
to me lor many days together after this." 

Bunyan did not forget this vision of Mount Sion, when he 
wrote his Pilgrim. His Shining Ones tell Christian and 
Hopeful, just what he has told us ; and these Pilgrims ascend 
Mount Sion just as his own thoughts did, " with agility and 
speed, although it was higher than the clouds." Indeed, ex- 
cept the Trumpeters, who " made the heavens to echo with 
melodious noises and loud," the whole scene was present to him 
on this occasion. This will hardly be wondered at when his 
own account of the process of discovery is read. 

" The words are these," he says: " *Ye are come to Mount 
Sion, to the city of the living God, to the heavenly Jerusalem, 
and to an innumerable company of angels, to the general as- 
sembly and church of the first-born, which are written in 
heaven ; to God the Judge of all, and to the spirits of just men 
made perfect, and to Jesus the Mediator of the New Testament, 
and to the blood of sprinkling, that speaketh better things than 
that of Abel.' Through this sentence the Lord led me over and 
over again ; first to this word, and then to that : and showed 
me wonderful glory in every one of them. These words also 
have oft since that time been great refreshment to my spirit." 

He refreshed others, and especially his fellow prisoners, by 
them at a future day : for it was the vivid recollection of what 
he now saw in them, that enabled him to pour out that unpre* 
meditated commentary on the heavenly Jerusalem, which he 
afterwards published under the title of "The Holy City." 
The history of that remarkable work (which was a special fa- 
vourite with himself, because of " the Jasper-lighV in which 
it shone out upon him suddenly, when he thought he could not 
speak " so much as five words of truth,") will be found in 
the chapter of his Prison Thoughts. 

This season of afHiction was useful to Bunyan. It brought 
his best affections, as well as his best powers, into full ope- 
ration. He said, in reference to it, " the incense was to be 
bruised, and so to be burned in the censer. Sweet gums 
and spices cast their fragrant scent into the nostrils of man, 
when beaten ; and the heart, when beaten and bruised, casts 
its sweet smell into the nostrils of God." — Works, p. 543. 
He meant himself, also, when he said of David, " He knew 
what it was to hang over the mouth of Hell, and to have 
Death pulling him down into the Pit, This he saw, to the 



ig2 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

breaking of his heart. His relief, therefore, made him a 
thankful man ! And if a man who has had a leg broken, 
is made to understand that by breaking of that, he was kept 
from breaking his neck, he will be thankful to God for a bro- 
ken leg." — Wcyrks, p. 547. Agreeably to these maxims. 
Banyan was thankful for his visit to the gates of death. 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 193 



CHAPTER XVII. 

bunyan's call to the ministry. 

1656. 

If either the consciousness of mental power, or the command 
of intelHgible and terse modes of expressing his religious 
thoughts and feeUngs, could have encouraged Bunyan to 
preach the Gospel to others, he would have begun to do so 
when he regretted that the Crows did not understand him. 
If, again, example could have tempted him to "expose his 
gifts" (according to the phrase and fashion of his times) he 
might have commenced when he liked, without being sent or 
sanctioned by any church ; for (as Dr. Chalmers told the 
Christian Influence Society, in his Presbyterian Lectures in 
aid of Episcopacy) " the mystic superiority arrogated by do- 
mineering Churchmen who claim for themselves (to the exclu- 
sion of all others * as beyond the pale') the immaculate descent 
of a pure and apostolic ordination," had rendered ordination 
a bye-word in the Army ; and taught hosts of better men to 
say with Chalmers, " We disclaim all aid from any such facti- 
tious argument-, — an argument which could have been of no 
avail against the Popery we rejected, and should be of as lit- 
tle avail against (other) denominations of Protestanism." — 
Chalmers^ Last Lecture. 

Bunyan had, however, an overwhelming dread of the minis- 
try ; not merely because he was alive to its solemn responsi- 
bilities, and to his own lack of knowledge, but chiefly because 
he could not appropriate to himself the Salvation he wished to 
proclaim to others. He was thus as much awed at the bare 
idea of entering the ministry of the Church on earth, as a re- 
flecting man is, in the immediate prospect of taking a part in 
the service of the Church in heaven. We must both remem- 
ber and realize this, if we would either understand Bunyan, 
or sympathize with him, at this point of his history. 

Now we do not wonder at all, that a very great change 
must take place upon both the heart and conscience of even 
J7 



194 LIFE OF BUNYAN, 

the holiest Christians at death, before they can serve or enjoy 
God in heaven ; for there, His servants serve Him day and 
night without weariness or dread. Such untiring and cheer- 
ful service is natural to Angels. There is nothing in their 
nature or history, to hinder it. Their spirit was never unfit, 
nor reluctant, nor afraid, to see or to serve God, face to face. 
They have thus no painful recollections of the past, and no 
fears as to the future. They can look back upon their whole 
life without one blush of shame, or one sigh of regret ; and for- 
ward through Eternity, without one suspicion. It is, how- 
ever, just as true of the human spirits in Heaven, as of the 
angelic, that they too serve God without weariness or dread. 
Their power and composure to do so arise, indeed, from other 
and widely different causes : but they have both power and 
composure to equal the Angels in duty and delight. 

It is, I grant, easier to believe this of others, than to realize 
it for ourselves. We can hardly conceive how we could be able^ 
for ages, to look up, at all, before the Eternal Throne, even if 
Angels conveyed, or old Friends welcomed us, into heaven. 
We feel, when we think of seeing God and the Lamb face to 
face, as if we should like to look at them first, from " the 
borders of Emanuel's land." We are so sure, that the " great 
sight" must remind us of the long time during which, and the 
low reasons for which, we lived without God, and without 
Christ, in the world, — that we cannot help feeling as if we 
could not bear the sight at once ; but as if it must overwhelm 
us with shame and confusion of face. Thus, so far as we can 
judge at present, we should prefer, when we enter Heaven to 
creep out of sight for a time ; or to dwell alone in some retired 
spot amongst the hills of Immortality, until we could collect 
our thoughts, and compose our spirits, and be somewhat pre- 
pared to approach the Throne ; for it seems impossible now, 
that we could wear a crown of glory, or wave a palm of victo- 
ry, or use a golden harp, at once, or even soon. Accordingly, 
the only thing we can realize as within the utmost reach of 
our power, whilst Heaven is all new to us, is, that we might 
just be able to sit down in the mansion of some of our old 
friends, and after recovering from our surprize take lessons 
from them on the duties of heaven, 

I will not ask, why we feel thus when we think of entering 
into the presence, and upon the service, of God in heaven. 
We cannot help feeling thus intimidated, when we think thus 
distinctly. Now it is quite possible to be thus intimidated a:t 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 195 

the service of God on earth. Bunyan felt for a long time, as 
unfit for it, and as unworthy of it, as we can do in regard to 
the engagements and enjoyments of heaven. The question of 
permission, welcome, and ability, to serve God acceptably, 
gravelled him far more than the question of time, trouble, or 
convenience. He was not unwilling to serve, at any expense 
of time or trouble. His difficulty was, to see how he could be 
allowed to serve God, as God requires to be served ; in the 
spirit of adoption, or with filial love and godly fear. He saw 
clearly that slavish or forced obedience would not be accepta- 
ble ; and he felt, although willing to obey from the heart, that 
he was unable to shake off the spirit of bondage, or of fear. 
He felt this long, even in regard to the 'private duties of godli- 
ness. He shrunk back from Baptism and the Sacrament, for 
years, lest he should presume. No wonder, therefore, that he 
was timid as well as modest, when his friends urged him to 
preach the faith he had once blasphemed. Like Paul, he ex- 
claimed with amazement, "putting me into the ministry, who 
was before a blasphemer !" This consideration, far more than 
his mean rank or education, overpowered him, even whilst he 
was rejoicing in the hope of eternal life, when his friends 
called upon him to preach the Gospel. They chose, however, 
a good time, for making their appeal to him. He had re- 
covered both his health and spirits ; and GifFord was just 
dead. 

Bunyan's face might have shone, like that of Moses, with 
the glory of joy and peace, when, he came down from the 
Mount of Vision, and mingled again with the congregation. 
They " took knowledge of him that he had been with Jesus," 
and reckoned him fit for the ministry. His oldest Biographer, 
who knew him well, says, " He had been but a few years a 
member of the Congregation, when his promptness in prayer, 
and in the Scriptures, gave the people hopes that he would be 
one day — what he proved. And therefore they, at a private 
meeting, desired him to expose his talent in edifying the peo- 
ple; which he very modestly declined," at first. This quota- 
tion both 'illustrates and confirms Dr. Southey's remark, that 
" Bunvan was not one of those enthusiasts who thrust them- 
selves forward in confident reliance upon what they suppose 
to be an inward call." Bunyan deserves this tribute, what- 
ever it mean ; and, in regard to him, it means all that is ho- 
nourable. At whose expense, however, is it paid to him ? An 
inward call, and that from, the Holy Ghost, is put forward by 



196 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

all candidates for holy orders. Are they therefore, all en- 
thusiasts? This is not what is meant. The reference must, 
therefore, be to Methodists and Dissenters ; and so far as Maw- 
worms, or men grossly ignorant, are allowed to thrust them- 
selves forward amongst them, let them bear the blame. The 
inward call of a man destitute of common-sense, is as great an 
absurdity, although not so great an impiety, as the pre- 
tences of clerical sportsmen to be moved by the Holy Ghost. 

By what infatuation is ridicule kept up against an inward 
call, whilst the Ordination Service is based upon the necessity 
and reality of a Divine movement ? Either that Service should 
be altered, or this sneer abandoned. Or if it be desirable to 
keep the. finger of scorn pointed at empty-headed novices, why 
then, let the whole hand, yea both hands, of scorn, be pointed 
at the empty-hearted scholars, who have nothing but scholar- 
ship to qualify them for holy orders ; and thus let none have 
the moral benefit of a sacred name, but those, — and happily 
they are not few nor feeble in the Episcopalian Church now, 
— who accredit and adorn that name, by holy character and 
faithful preaching. 

Bunyan's own account of his call' to the ministry is very 
interesting. He says, " And now I am speaking of my expe- 
rience, I will in this place thrust in a word or two concerning 
ray preaching the Word, and God's dealing with me in that 
particular also. 

" After I had been about five or six years awakened, and 
helped to see for myself both the want and the worth of the 
Lord Jesus Christ, and also enabled to venture my soul upon 
him, — some of the most able among the saints with us (I say 
the most able for judgment and holiness of life) did perceive, as 
they conceived, that God had counted me worthy to under- 
stand something of his will in his holy and blessed Word, and 
had given me utterance, to express, in some measure, what I 
saw, to others, for edification : therefore they desired me — and 
that with much earnestness, that I would be willing, at some 
times to take in hand, in one of the meetings, to speak a word 
of exhortation unto them. 

" The which, though at the first it did much dash and abash 
my spirit, yet being still by them desired and entreated, I con- 
sented to their request, and did twice at two several assemblies 
(but in private,) though with much weakness and infirmity, 
discover my gift amongst them ; at which they not only 
seemed to be, but did frequently protest, as in the sight of the 



1 



LIFE OF BTTNYAN. 197 

great God, they were both affected and comforted ; and gave 
thanks to the JFather of mercies, for the grace bestowed on 



me. 



" After this, sometimes, when some of them did go into the 
country to teach, they would also that I should go with them ; 
where, though, as yet, I did not, nor durst not, make use of 
my gift in an open way, yet more privately, still, as I came 
amongst the good people in those places, I did sometimes speak 
a word of admonition unto them also ; the which they, as the 
other, received with rejoicing at the mercy of God to me- ward, 
professing their souls were edified thereby. 

« Wherefore, to be brief, at last, being still desired by the 
church, after some solemn prayer to the Lord, with fasting, I 
was more particularly called forth, and appointed to a more 
ordinary and public preaching of the word, not only to and 
amongst them that believed, but also to offer the Gospel to 
those who had not yet received the faith thereof." 

It appears from a note of Ivimey, that seven other members 
of the Church were called forth along with Bunyan. One of 
them, Nehemiah Coxe, was the grandson of a Bishop ; and al- 
though a Cordwainer, a scholar. Accordingly, when he, like 
Bunyan, cams to be tried at Bedford assizes for preaching, he 
pleaded first in Greek, and then in Hebrew. The Judge was 
astoimded, and called for the Indictment. In that, Coxe was 
styled a Cordwainer. The Judge told him, that none of the 
Lawyers could answer him. Coxe claimed, however, his right 
to plead in whatever language he pleased. It is said, he 
escaped by this ; and that the Judge enjoyed the discomfiture 
of the Lawyers. Report adds, that he said to them as Coxe 
left the court, " Well, Gentlemen, this Cordwainer has wound 
you all up." I refer to this anecdote, because it was probably 
from Coxe that Bunyan picked up the few Latin words and 
classical allusions, which appear in some of his writings. 

It deserves notice here, that Bunyan in yielding to the ur- 
gency of his friends, and venturing to preach, had more than 
timidity to contend against. They saw nothing else : but he 
felt more. '' I was at that time," he says, " most sorely afflict- 
ed with the fiery darts of the devil, concerning my eternal 
state." Accordingly, he often preached Jiope to others, when 
he himself was all but despairing ; and carried in his own 
conscience the fre he warned them to flee from. This was 
more heroic than Darracot's preacliing, whilst his children lay 
dead at home. He said to Whitefield, " weeping must not 
17* 



198 L I F R O F E TT N V A T^. 

stop sowing." Bunyan said to himself, " the fear of wrath 
must not stop duty. 

But he has told his own story ; and those will read it, who 
wish to understand the workings of a ministerial mind. Bun- 
yan's alternations of hope and fear, are not uncommon. 

" But yet I could not be content, unless I was found in the 
exercise of my gift, unto which also I was greatly animated, 
not only by the continual desires of the godly, but also by 
that saying of Paul to the Corinthians ; 'I beseech you brethren 
(ye know the household of Stephanas, that it is the first 
fruits of Achaia, and that they have addicted themselves to 
the ministry of the saints,) that ye submit yourselves unto 
such, and to every one that helpeth with us and laboureth.' 1 
Cor. xvi. 15. 

" By this text I was made to see that the Holy Ghost never 
intended that men who have gifts and abilities, should bury 
them in the earth, but rather did command and stir up such to 
the exercise of their gift, and also did commend those that 
were apt and ready so to do. 'They have addicted them- 
selves to the ministry of the saints.' This scripture in these 
days, did continually run in my mind, to encourage me, and 
strengthen me, in this my work for God ; I have also been 
encouraged from several other scriptures and examples of the 
godly, both specified in the Word and other ancient histories 
(' Fox's Acts and Monuments'). ' Therefore they that were 
scattered abroad went every where preaching the Word. — And 
a cerlain Jew named Apullos, born at Alexandria, an eloquent 
man and mighty in the scriptures, came to Ephesus. This 
man was instructed in the way of the Lord, and being fervent 
in the spirit he spake and taught diligently the things of the 
Lord. Having then gifts differing according to the grace 
that is given to us, whether prophecy, let us prophecy, accord- 
ing to the proportion of faith ; or ministry, let us wait on our 
ministering ; or he that teacheth on teaching ; or he that ex- 
horteth on exhortation.' 

" Wherefore, though of myself of all the saints the most un- 
worthy, yet I, but with great fear and trembling at the sight of 
my own weakness, did set upon the work, and did, according 
to my gift, and the proportion of my faith, preach that blessed 
gospel that God had showed me in the holy word of truth : 
which when the country understood, they came in to hear the 
word by hundreds, and that from all parts, though upon divers 
and sundry accounts. 



4 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 199 

" And I thank God, he gave unto me some measure of bow- 
els and pity for their souls, which also did put me forward to 
labour, with great diligence and earnestness, to find out such 
a word as might, if God would bless it, lay hold of, and awaken 
the conscience, in which also the good Lord had respect to the 
desire of his servant ; for I had not preached long, before some 
began to be touched, and be greatly afflicted in their minds at 
the apprehension of the greatness of their sin, and ot their 
need of Jesus Christ. 

"But I first could not believe that God should speak by me 
to the heart of any man, still counting myself unworthy ; yet 
those who w ere thus touched, would love me and have a parti- 
cular respect for me ; and though I did put it from me, that 
they should be awakened by me, still they would confess it, 
and affirm it before the saints of God. They would also bless 
God for me (unworthy wretch that I am !) and count me God's 
instrument that showed to them the way of salvation. 

" Wherefore, seeing them in both their words and deeds to 
be so constant, and also in their hearts so earnestly pressing 
after the knowledge of Jesus Christ, rejoicing that ever God 
did send me where they were ; then I began to conclude it 
might be so that God had owned in his work such a foolish 
one as I ; and then came that word of God to my heart, with 
much sweet refreshment, ' The blessing of them that were ready 
to perish, is come upon me ;. yea, I caused the widow's heart 
to sing for joy.' 

" At this therefore I rejoiced ; yea, the tears of those whom 
God did awaken by my preaching, would be both solace and 
encouragement to me. I thought on those sayings, ' Who is 
he that maketh me glad, but the same that is made sorry by 
me V And again, ' Though I be not an apostle to others, yet 
doubtless I am unto you : for the seal of my apostleship are 
ye in the Lord.' These things, therefore, were as another ar- 
gument unto me, that God had called me to, and stood by me 
in this work. 

" In my preaching of the word, I took special notice of this 
one thing, namely, that the Lord did lead me to begin where 
his word begins with sinners ; that is, to condemn all flesh, 
and to open and allege, that the curse of God by the law, doth 
belong to, and lay hold on all men as they come into the world, 
because of sin. Now this part of my work I fulfilled with 
great sense ; for the terrors of the law, and guilt for my trans- 
gressions, lay heavy on my conscience : I preached what I 



200 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

felt, what I smartingly did feel ; even that under which my 
poor soul did groan and tremble to astonishment. 

" Indeed I have been as one sent to them from the dead ; I 
went myself in chains, to preach to them in chains ; and car- 
ried that fire in my own conscience, that I persuaded them to 
be aware of. I can truly say, and that without dissembling, 
that when I have been to preach, I have gone full of guilt and 
terror even to the pulpit-door, and there it hath been taken 
off, and I have been at liberty in my mind until I have done 
my work ; and then immediately, even before I could get 
down the pulpit-stairs, I have been as bad as I was before ; 
yet God carried me on, but surely with a strong hand, for 
neither guilt nor hell could take me off my work. 

" Thus I went on for the space of two years, crying out 
against men's sins, and their fearful state because of them. 
After which, the Lord came in upon my own soul, with some 
sure peace and comfort through Christ ; for he did give me 
many sweet discoveries of his blessed grace through him : 
wherefore now I altered in my preaching, (for still I preached 
what I saw and felt ;) now therefore I did much labour to hold 
forth Jesus Christ in all his offices, relations, and benefits unto 
the world, and did strive also to discover, to condemn, and 
remove those false supports and props on which the world 
doth both lean, and by them fall and perish. On these things 
also I staid as long as on the other." 




LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 201 



CHAPTER XVin. 

BUNYAN AND THE QUAKERS. 
1656. 

Ix reading this chapter, it will be as useless to remember, as it 
is impossible to forget, the present form of the Quaker contro- 
versy. The Quakers who assailed Bunyan, and those who 
were assailed by him, must be estimated hei*e by what they 
did and said then, and not by the sayings or doings of the So- 
ciety of Friends now. It was not with Hicksites, Tukeites, 
nor Gurneyites, Bunyan had to deal. His opponents had 
none of Hicks' scepticism, and but little of Tuke's prudence, 
and still less of Gurney's scriptural orthodoxy. They must, 
Ihercfoic, bo taken aud treated just as we find them upon the 
page of contemporary history, and not as they are caricatured 
by the New Lights, nor as they are complimented by the Old 
Lights of modern Quakerism. No caricature, however ludi- 
crous, can render George Fox, or Edward Burroughs con- 
temptible ; and no pleading, however special, can redeem 
their memory from the charge of fanaticism. 

The Quakerism which Bunyan found in Bedfordshire, he 
thus describes : — 

" The errors that this people then maintained, were, 

" 1. That the Holy Scriptures were not the word of God. 

" 2. That every man in the world hath the spirit of Christ, 
grace, faith, &;c. 

" 3. That Christ Jesus, as crucified, and dying sixteen hun- 
dred years ago, did not satisfy divine justice for the sins of 
the people. 

" 4. That Christ's flesh and blood were within the saints. 

" 5. That the bodies of the good and bad, that are buried in 
the churciiyard, shall not rise again. 

" 6. That the resurrection is past with good men already. 

" 7. That the man Jesus, that was crucified between two 
thieves on Mount Calvary, in the land of Canaan, by Jerusa- 
lem, was not ascended above the starry heavens. 



202 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

" 8. That the same Jesus that died by the hands of the Jews, 
would not come again at the last day and as man, judge all 
nations, &c." 

This is not modern Quakerism ; nor was primitive Quaker- 
ism, as that is explained and defended in the writings of its 
authors, chargeable with all this error. This is, however, the 
Quakerism which Banyan met with whilst going his rounds 
as a travelling tinker. These were the startling assertions 
flung in his face, by ordinary Quakers, when their tongue and 
his hammer happened to sound in the same streets, or when 
they contradicted his barn-sermons in the villages. Then, 
whatever may have been the key-note given by their ministers, 
the burden of their vociferated song was, " Christ is a Christ 
crucified within, dead within, risen again within, and ascended 
within f^^ It was, therefore, to what he saw and heard, that 
Bunyan addressed himself, when he first became a writer. In 
his first treatise, he named neither a minister nor a book of 
the Quakers. With the exception of seven questions to them, 
at the end of it, he does not even plead with them, but with 
those who " listened " to them. 

His maiden work is entitled " Gospel Truths upened ;." and 
it well deserves the name ! It is a fine specimen of the apos- 
tolic mode of" opening and alleging, that Jesus is the Christ," 
Apollos may have been more eloquent than Bunyan, but he 
could not have been mightier in the Scriptures. There is no 
extravagance in this compliment. It is confined to his rea- 
sonings, of course. His occasional railing is like that of his 
times, severe. It is not, however, hitter, even when most 
severe. 

Dr. Southey says of Bunyan's Treatise, that although " lit- 
tle wisdom and less moderation might be expected in a pole- 
mical discourse," which professedly assails " scorpions broken 
loose from the bottomless pit," it is yet " a calm, well- arranged 
and well-supported statement of the scriptural doctrines on 
some momentous points, which the primitive Quakers were 
understood by others to deny ; and which, in fact, (though 
they did not understand themselves,) they did deny, both vir- 
tually and explicitly, when in the heat and acerbity of oral 
disputation they said they knew not what." This testimony 
is strong. I must, however, go beyond it. The book was 
written in 1656, when Bunyan began to preach. It must, 
therefore, have been thrown off" on the spur of the moment,^ 
and at one heat. And yet it sweeps the whole circle of the 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 203 

question of the Messiahship of Jesus ; and that with a strict 
logic, and a pure taste. I can never read it without thinking 
of Dr. Smith's " Scripture Testimony." It has all the con- 
vincing power of that masterly work, although it acquires 
that power from common-sense alone. This may seem au 
extravagant statement to those who have only skimmed the 
Treatise ; but it will be acknowledged as the words of truth 
and soberness, by all who have studied the work with an ex- 
press reference to the class it was addressed to. I shall tempt 
some to do so, when I add, that, for ordinary readers, it is per- 
haps the best thing against Socinianism they could read. In 
this point of view, it deserves to be republished, and circulated 
amongst the poor ; for its bearings against old Quakerism are 
its least merit. 

Dr. Southey is, no doubt, right, in saying, that " Burton 
may have corrected some vulgarisms," and mended the " tin- 
kerly appearance" of the spelling, as well as prefaced the 
work. " Other corrections," he justly says, " it would not 
need." If it had, Burton could not have supplied them ; for 
neither his style nor his vein would have chimed in with 
Bunyan's. The good man must, however, have been both 
amazed and delighted, when he prepared Bunyan's manuscript 
for the Press ! I can now see Burton's face lighted up with 
complacency, when he said of his friend and brother, " He 
hath through Grace, taken three heavenly Degrees, viz. union 
with Christ, — the anointing of the Spirit, — experience of 
Temptation ; which do more fit a man for the weighty work 
of preaching the gospel, than all the University learning and 
degrees that can be had." But if his friend felt thus — what 
must his wife have enjoyed when she saw her husband writing 
a book ! She deserved the joy of that event, after having seen 
him so often and long sitting, like the Man in the Iron Cage, 
" with his eyes looking down to the ground, his hands folded 
together, and sighing as if he would break his heart." PiU 
grim. She who watched over him then, would work for him 
now, and take care that neither pan nor kettle should thrust 
the pen out of his hand, whilst he was getting on, whenever 
her own hand could clench a rivet or solder a crack. 

There is a peculiarity about his " Gospel Truths Opened," 
which proves more against the Quakerism he was surrounded 
by, than any of his charges against it. He almost invariably 
calls the Jesus Christ, " the Son of Mary." One part of the 
title is, " The Doctrine of Jesus the Son of Mary." Bunyan 



204 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

was driven to this phraseology, by the clamour of Quakerism 
against preaching the outward Christ, and by the identification 
of the inward light with Christ. In no other way could he 
have exposed or detected the glib pretence of the Quakers 
around him, when they boasted of making Christ "all in all." 
This, however, brought them to a test they could not flinch 
from ; and accordingly, they charged him to his face with 
setting up an idol in Heaven, because he taught the people, 
that the " Son of Mary was in Heaven with the same body 
that was crucified on the Cross." 

Edward Burroughs felt that Quakerism was endangered by 
Bunyan's dexterity. He could not conceal his suspicions, nor 
suppress his fears of the Tinker, although remonstrating at the 
time with the Protector. This is a curious coincidence. 
Burroughs testified against Cromwell and Bunyan at the same 
time, and much in the same style ; and both answered him ; 
the former by sending for him, and the latter by writing to 
him. Cromwell had rather a high opinion of him notwith- 
standing all the liome truths as well as extravagancies, he ut- 
tered. Indeed, he was evidently a clever man, although some- 
what crazed about prophecy. Sewell, the Quaker historian, 
maintained that Burroughs predicted the fate of Richard 
Cromwell : and it is an odd coincidence, that Richard resigned 
soon after he read the prophecy^ — Sewell, vol. i. p. 326. 

I have not room to characterize Burroughs at full length : 
but a pretty good idea of him may be formed from the fact, 
that he publicly shouted, " Plagues, plagues, and vengeance," 
against the friends of Oliver, when he met them escorting, 
with heraldic pomp and blazonry, the image of the Protector 
to Westminster. Sewell says, " he thus raised for himself a 
more lasting monument, than the Statue erected to his quon- 
dam friend, O. Cromwell." — Ihid. 

What kind of statue he raised for himself by writing against 
Bunyan, will be seen from the following ♦' Rabshaking,^^ as Dr. 
Southey well calls the tirade. " John Bunyan, your spirit is 
tried, and your generation is read at large, and your stature 
and countenance is clearly described to me, to be of the stock 
of Ishmael, — and of the seed of Cain, — whose line reacheth 
unto the murthering Priests, Scribes, and Pharisees. O thou 
blind Priest, whom God hath confounded in thy language, — 
the design of the Devil in deceiving souls is thine own, and I 
turn it back to thee. — Thou directest altogether to a thing 
without, despising the Light within, and worshipping the 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 205 

name Mary in thy imagination, and knowest not Him who 
was before the world was ; in whom alone is salvation, and in 
no other. — -If we would diligently search we should find thee, 
through feigned words, through covetousness, making mer- 
chandise of souls, and loving the wages of unrighteousness : 
and such were the scoffers Peter speaks of, among whom thou 
art found in thy practice, among them who are preaching for 
hire, and love the error of Balaam, who took gifts and re- 
wards. — The Lord rebuke thee, thou unclean spirit, who has 
falsely accused the innocent to clear thyself of guilt ; but at 
thy door guilt lodges, and I leave it with thee ! Clear thyself, 
if thou art able. Thou art one of the Dragon's army against 
the Lamb and his followers ; and thy weapons are slanders ; 
and thy refuge is lies. Thy Work is confused, and hath hard- 
ly gained a name in Babylon's Record." 

This is a specimen of what Burrough calls, " contending for 
the true faith of the Gospel of Peace in the spirit of meek- 
ness !" We may laugh at this as pretence ; but the writer 
was quite serious. He saw nothing in all this bitter and rail- 
ing accusation, but the true spirit of meekness. This is just 
the way in which meek spirits write when they kindle with 
zeal. It is only 'passionate men who remonstrate temperately, 
in religious controversy. They are afraid of their own spirit ; 
and thus suppress its fire : whereas, bland and gentle spirits, 
when they burn, indulge it. Robert Sandeman was gentle as 
a lamb, although he wrote like a fury ; whereas John Glass, 
whose writings on Faith breathe nothing but love, is said to 
have been an irritable and violent man. One of the Ish. 
maels of the present day, is as mild as an emulsion. He said 
to me, the first time I saw him, "you calculated upon meeting 
a roaring lion." He was surprised when I told him, that the 
violence of his pen had convinced me of the gentleness of his 
spirit ; and that I calculated upon finding him a lamb. The 
fact is, men of fiery mood, when they wax unusually warm, 
suspect that they are " set on fire of hell ;" and thus resist a 
conflagration : whereas, when cool men kindle, they fan the 
flame, because they think it comes from heaven. Burroughs 
believed it to be inspiration. The hotter he became, the more 
heavenly he deemed himself. He seems, however, to have 
been a bland, as well as a bold man. His Letters to his fami- 
ly and his suffering friends, are full of tenderness. His eulo- 
gist, Howgill, says in his Epicedium (for it deserves that name, 
although in prose ; being full of poetical " thoughts which 
18 



206 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

breathe, and words which burn,") " For though thou didst cut 
as a razor^ — and many a rough stone hast thou squared and 
poHshed- — and much knotty wood hast thou hewed in thy day ; 
yet to the Seed, thy words dropped hke oil, and thy Hps as 
the honeycomb." WiUiam Penn is another illustration of 
this paradox. 

I am not apologizing for Burroughs. His denunciations of 
Bunyan admit of no defence ; and his sneers at him are ill- 
concealed alarms or mortifications. Had Bunyan's work not 
been telling within and beyond the pale of Quakerism, Bur- 
roughs would have let the Tinker alone. Bunyan answered 
him with great dignity, and much point. In reply to the 
calumnious charge of being a hireling, he calmly said, " Ask 
others : I preach the truth, and work with my hands for mine 
own living, and for those that are with me." Burroughs had 
the meanness to give him the he direct, to this vindication ; and 
to say, " Thy portion shall be howling and gnashing of teeth ; 
for the Liar's portion is the Lake." The secret of this rage 
is, that Bunyan had nailed him with powerful questions, to 
which a " Yea or Nay" answer was demanded. He had also 
placed him between the horns of a laughable dilemma, which 
all the country could understand. It was this. Bunyan had 
classed the Quakers with the false prophets, whom St. John 
describes. Burroughs said, in answer to this, that " there 
was not a Quaker heard of in these days," Sad concession ! 
Bunyan caught at it at once, and said, " Thou art right : 
there was no Quaker ; but there were many of Christians 
then. By this you yourself do confess, that you are a new 
upstart Sect, which was not, at other times in the world, 
though christian saints have been always in the world. Friend, 
here, like a m.an in the dark, in seeking to keep thyself out 
of one ditch, thou art fallen into another: instead of proving 
yourselves no false prophets, you prove yourselves no Chris- 
tians ; saying, ' there was not a Quaker heard of then.' But 
if Quakers had been Christians, they would have been heard 
•of then." 

Bunyan could enjoy a joke, and point a sarcasm ; but there 
was no venofn in his wit, and he had no taste for personalities. 
He, therefore, just vindicated his character and creed, and 
dropt the controversy, that he might devote himself to the 
work of an evangelist. We shall see, however, that he kept 
his eye upon Quakerism, even whilst he was a prisoner ; espe- 
■cially when Ludovic Muggleton began to rave. Then he sent 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 207 

out warnings against fanaticism, which made the Quakers 
themselves denounce Muggleton. Richard Farnsworth him- 
self declared this maniac (the Courtenay of these times) " to 
be punishable by the law of the land :" and Sewell seems to 
regret that he could not " find any punishment inflicted on 
him, other than the pillory, and half a year's imprisonment." 
■^—Sewell, vol. ii. p. 95. In other respects, the Quakers ac- 
quitted themselves well of all sympathy with the Muggletonian, 
fanatics. 



208 LIFE OF BUNYAN, 



CHAPTER XIX. 

bunyan's example. 

Although no one's experience is exactly like Bunyan^s, yet 
all who have had any experience of terror or temptation, of 
hope or fear, of agony or anguish, find something in his vicis- 
situdes, analogous to their own. The revolutions of his hopes 
and fears were indeed often abrupt, and always extreme ; but 
they circled for ever around the question of his eternal salva- 
tion. It was for his soul he feared when he was shaken with 
terrors : it was for his soul he hoped when he shouted for joy. 
When he hung his harp upon the willows, it was because the 
hope of salvation had fallen into the dark waters of despair 
beneath ; and when he took down that harp, it was because 
this hope had emerged from them again. For although he 
marked and felt the vicissitudes of his health and his family, 
he was absorbed chiefly by the varying aspects of eternity. 

This is the real secret of our sympathy ^br him. It is a 
sympathy with him. Not, indeed, in all the depth of his wo, 
nor in all the height of his rapture : but, still, in the causes or 
springs of both. At the extremes of both hope and fear, he is 
beyond us. In the povver of describing or expressing both, he 
is above us. His harp, when miiffled, is too sad for us ; and 
when tuned to the harps around the throne, too loud or too 
sweet for the usual melody of our own hearts. But still, we 
feel it to be alike true to the fear of perishing, and to the hope 
of salvation. It was not too solemn when the sorrows of death 
compassed him, and the pains of hell gat hold upon him ; nor 
too cheerful, even when it rung with rapture over the tokens 
of the divine presence, and the earnests of eternal glory. We 
may not exactly regret that we cannot rise to all the height of 
Bunyan's joy, when it is unspeakable, by its fulness of glory ; 
and we may even dread and deprecate sinking so low in the 
fearful pit of terror as he did : but we cannot wonder that his 
song was loud when he felt his footing upon the Rock of Ages, 
nor that his grief was clamorous whilst he thought heaven shut 
against his prayers, and hell his inevitable portion; for his 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 209 

feelinf^s then are not too strong for such extremes of hope and 
fear. He may, indeed, have feared too much when the cloud 
was upon his spirit, and hoped too fondly when the rainbow 
spano-led and dispersed that cloud : but he did feel all the hope 
and the fear he gave utterance to. He said nothing stronger 
than he thought and felt at the time, although he has said more 
about both his joys and sorrows than any other man. 

It was not by accident, however, that he said so much, nor 
that he had so much to say. God was training him to teach 
many, and therefore made him "a wonder to many." And 
he was just the man, so far as mind is concerned, to be thus 
selected for a sign to "be wondered at :" for neither the great 
nor the wise can question his genius, and the poor will sympa- 
thise with his mean origin for ever. No class can doubt his 
perfect sincerity, and all classes must feel his matchless power. 
Like the sun, he reveals himself by his own light, and reaches 
the meridian by his own strength, so far as human help is con- 
cerned. He owes little to circumstances, and still less to edu- 
cation, for what he became as a thinker or a writer. He was 
barn, not made, an allegorical poet in prose. 

It was both like God, and worthy of him, to select this man 
to be "a polished shaft in his quiver." Bunyan may he shot 
anywhere, at any time, and with great effect, until the end of 
tinis. He can neither break nor blunt by long use, nor rust 
when unemployed. He is always new, however often read ; 
and never entirely forgotten by the most superficial reader. 
Some fine imige, or emphatic maxim, or thrilling sentiment, 
lays hold on the mind, and lingers in the memory, even if his 
devotional spirit be forgotten as penitence, or disliked as 
prayer. 

It was just in a mind of this order, that a public manifesta-^ 
tion of the power of conscience could be made with effect. 
The terrors of a weak mind, or even of an ordinary mind, are 
easily ascribed to intellectual weakness : but when conscience 
overpowers an acute understanding, and saddens a spirit at 
once buoyant and mighty, and makes a creative genius create 
only visions of horror and despair, we are compelled to pausQ 
and ask, what must conscience be, seeing it can thus master 
all the other powers of the mind, and, without deranging them, 
turn each of them into a conscience, or make them all parts of 
itself? It is this fact that fla?nes in the example of Bunyan. 
We see the man who had an eye for all that is lovely, and an 
car for all that is sweet, and a heart for all that is sublime in 

18* 



210 LIFE OF, BUNYAIf. 

nature, so bowed down under a sense of guilt, unworthlnesgy 
and danger, that he can neither speak nor look up ; neither 
eat nor sleep ! 

We need a sight of this kind, on many accounts. We do 
not naturally suspect, and are not willing to believe, that con- 
science can thus bleed or burn, except when it is laden with 
unusual or unutterable crimes. We can hardly admit, in our 
own case, that we could be brought thus low, or be stretched 
on this rack. And, happily, it is not necessary that we should 
be either racked or bowed down as he was. It is, however, 
both necessary and desirable, that we should be fully aware of 
what an inflamed conscience can inflict upon mind and body. 
We do not understand " the wrath to come," until we under- 
stand the power of conscience in some measure, either from 
feeling or observation. God has, therefore, exemplified, in a 
man universally known and admired, the gnawingsof the worm 
which dieth not, and the heat of unquenchable fire, just that 
we may appreciate the mercy of more gentle awakenings, and 
not provoke him to make or let conscience do its worst; for 
its worst could make any man a terror to himself, and to all 
around him ! 

This, I grant, seldom happens. The reason of its rareness 
is not, however, sufficiently acknowledged or noticed. It is 
because God has shown in the case of David, Paul, the Philip- 
pian jailor, the Pentecostal converts — and not less in Bunyan 
— how conscience can, like the Sinai trumpet, outspeak the 
thunder, and outhurn the lightning, that he so seldom repeats 
the fearful experiment, or adopts this fiery line of moral disci- 
pline. Indeed, it is evidently a part of his plan to make as 
few public examples as possible : and, therefore, he has made 
the few signal ; and in men who can neither be forgotten nor 
overlooked ; and in characters which no man of sense can sus- 
pect of weakness, or doubt their sincerity. Wilberfoece 
was one of these signal examples, although not known as such 
until his sons told his secret. There is a Bunyan-like empha- 
sis in some of his confessions. " It was not," he says, " so 
much the fear of punishment by which I was affected, — as a 
sense of my great sinfulness in having so long neglected the 
unspeakable mercies of my God and Saviour : and such was 
the effect which this thought produced, that for months I was in 
a state of the deepest depression, from strong convictions of my 
guilt. Indeed, nothing which I had ever read in the accounts 
of others, exceeded what I then felt." — Life, vol. i, p. 89. 



LIFE O.F BUNYAN. 211 

Pitt wondered even at the little he saw of this in Wilberforce ; 
but " Old Newton " did not, although he saw the whole of it. 

God has thus placed in a very puzzling and mortifying 
dilemma, the men who deny that He either interferes with the 
conscience by His Spirit, or allows Satan to lodge "fiery 
darts " in the mind. For, to what can they refer the sharp 
agony of Paul at Damascus, or the frequent despair of David, 
or the anguish of Wilberforce, or the protracted horrors of 
Bunyan ? It will not do to call these men weak. The world, 
as well as the church, feels and owns their strength ! Not one 
of all the nicknames in the vocabulary of ridicule, can be 
applied to them. He stamps himself rogue in philosophy, who 
stigmatizes them as fools, fanatics, impostors, or dupes. And 
he is neither Philosopher nor Philanthropist, for the good of his 
species, who tells them that neither God nor Satan had any 
thing to do with the mental sufferings of John Bunyan : for if 
mind has a tendency to such fearful moods, or can take such 
dread turns, in spite of both its wish and will, even when its 
powers are strong, and its tastes pure, aad its aspirations 
sublime, what security has any man, who is not half an idiot, 
against becoming a terror or a burden to himself? How benign 
is the philosophy of the New Testament, compared with this 
" cruel mockery " of human nature. " The Spirit shall 
CONVINCE OF Sin, and of Righteousness, and of Judg- 
ment ! " This promise, although it set no certain limits to the 
degree of conviction, places both the length and power of it in 
the hands of one, who is emphatically and officially the Com- 
forter, and thus sure not to " contend for ever," nor to inffict 
wounds which are unhealable, nor to impose burdens which are 
unbearable. Accordingly, although Bunyan suffered much 
and long, he was was not left to sink in the " deep waters " nor 
allowed to become desperate. 

In like manner, if there was much wisdom in making him 
an example of the power of conscience, there was not less in 
making him an example of the power of the Gospel to cheer 
and console. For as he was just the man in whom fear cannot 
be thought weakness, nor despair affectation, so was he just the 
man in whom hope cannot be deemed presumption, nor joy pre- 
tence. He was humbled too deeply to presume, and he suffered 
too much to be consoled by fancies. He took, indeed, fanciful 
views, at first, of the real grounds of hope : but still, it was of 
the real grounds of hope ; and they are so" peculiar and sublime, 
that a little confusion or rashness in stepping on to them can. 



212 LIFE OF BUjSTYAK. 

not injure them, however it may show his weakness for a time. 
Besides, he soon became both strong and wise, when he under- 
stood them. 

Rehgious joy, Hke religious fear, needs a wise representative : 
for it too is deemed enthusiasm, if not weakness by many. 
Hence the importance of a few specimens, and of one promi- 
nent specimen, of holy joy, in which the keenest eye cannot 
trace imbecility, nor detect extravagance. Hence the neces- 
sity, in a world like ours, for lodging the joy of salvation, like 
the perfection of Light, in a mind, which, like the diamond, 
can enshrine it without being consumed by it, and reflect it 
without discoloring its brilliancy. That joy ought, indeed, to 
be respected and admired in any mind. It is one of its chief 
glories, that it can dwell with the poor, and accommodate itself 
to the weak, and combine itself with little knowledge, and with 
less talent. Like the sun, it can gild a dew drop, as well as 
enshrine a mountain, or flush an ocean. Still, it is desirable to 
see this joy reigning supreme in mighty minds, where other 
joys have a place, or can be duly appreciated. This keeps in 
check the senseless and unfeeling cry of the multitude who say 
of the godly, — 'they can enjoy nothing else.' I call that an 
unfeeling cry, because many of the pious have nothing else to 
enjoy. It is, therefore, both cruel and mean, when men of 
talents, taste, and education, sneer at the rehgious joys of those 
who, if they had no comfort in religion, would be of " all men 
the most miserable." A well-judging, even a well-disposed 
mind, would rejoice in the fact, that the joy of salvation can 
lighten the toil of the labourer, and sweeten the crumbs of the 
poor, and soften the couch of the afflicted. God has not, how- 
ever, left all the vindication of spiritual joy, to the good it does 
to the poor and the afflicted. It is to be eternal joy to them who 
fear Him ; and as the weakest of them will one day know 
even as they are known, and be for ever like angels in both 
talents and taste. He shows now to the world, some of the 
master-spirits of the world rejoicing in His Salvation with joy 
unspeakable, and full of glory, whilst enjoying with high zest 
the beauties and sublimities of Nature, and giving full play to 
a hallowed curiosity and a sanctified imagination. Bunyan 
is but one exemplification of the truth of this. Newton's eye 
was not less keen to discover, nor his wing less quick to track, 
the motions of stars and comets, when he studied alternately 
the Universe and the Bible, than whilst the former wholly 
absorbed him. Milton tore no string from his harp, nor struck 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 213 

its strings with less boldness, when he made Mount Zion his 
Parnassus, and " Siloa's brook " his Helicon. Wilberforce 
only amused princes and senators whilst his joy was like their 
own ; " of the earth, earthy ;" but he both fascinated and 
awed them, and won the homage of the world, when he made 
salvation his chief good, and the glory of God, in the welfare 
of man, his supreme end. Robert Hall lost none of the purity 
of Plato, and laid aside none of the majesty of Cicero, in his 
style, when he wrote on the glory of the Atonement and the 
grace of the Holy Spirit, as the grounds of his own hope and 
joy. And in the case of Bunyan, that joy was the strength of 
his imagination, as well as " of his heart," when he conducted 
the Holy War like a Wellington, and his Pilgrim's Progress 
like a Moses. And this was done, be it remembered, in Bed- 
ford Jail. Bunyan's joy not only sustained him there inflexible 
in all his principles, but also uncramped in all his powers. 
The prison of his body became the palace of his mind, and 
made the world his kingdom, and Time the length of his reign. 
Christians can thus afford to smile in public, — although they 
prefer to " weep in secret places," — when the men of the world 
call the joy of Salvation a weak fancy, or a warm dream. It 
made Bunyan happy, and gave that turn to his genius which 
has added to the happiness of myriads. It made Bunyan 
acquainted with himself^ and thus threw open to him the secrets 
of the world and the Church, and unveiled to him no small 
portion of " the things which are unseen and eternal." 

He was, also, just the man in whom the "sanctification of 
the Spirit, through belief of the Truth," could be exemplified 
with commanding effect. Never was a rougher diamond pol- 
ished into the beauty of Holiness. He became a gentleman 
too, when he became a Christian. I have heard men of fine 
tact apply to him, playfully, the expression, " he having not 
the law {p^ good hreeding) was a law unto himself; thus show- 
ing the work of that law written on his heart." There is 
more truth in this, than was intended by the compliment. 
The law of good breeding was written upon his heart, by his 
veneration for God. That principle towards God, became an 
instinct towards man, which seldom erred by word, look, or deed, 
even when provocation was great. 

But courtesy was the least part of his conformity to the 
Divine image. Even his zeal is not the chief beauty of his 
holiness : for he could do nothing by halves ; and, therefore, 
he took the lead in reforming others, just as he had done in 



214 LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 

corrupting them, and was as zealous in preaching as he had 
been in blaspheming. Accordingly, he cared no more for the 
yelp of downy Doctors, or the yell of rash Magistrates, when 
he became an itinerant, than he formerly did for the sermons 
of " our Parson," against dancing and bell-ringing on the 
Sabbath. It was, however, in holy consistency, that Bunyan 
excelled, when he avowed himself to be a Christian. This will 
be both illustrated and confirmed as we proceed. It is asserted 
hej'e, that proof may be expected. 

His example, at this time, is sketched hei*e, in order to 
account for his wide influence as a preacher, and for the warm 
sympathy which followed him to " bonds and imprisonment." 
It had made thoughtful men think more deeply, and thoughtless 
men meditative, before he was immured from their sight in 
Bedford jail. He knew this, — and nobly sustained the impres- 
sion he had made upon them. The prisoner sacrificed none of 
the influence which the Preacher had won by his experience 
and example : and he had won more at this time, than has 
hitherto been shown or imagined. He was " Bishop Bunyan" 
in reality, though not in name, when he was arrested. We 
shall see this in the next chapter ; — which, although rambling, 
because sketchy , is yet the Jcey to the heroism of his spirit, and 
to the motives of his conduct. It will also throw some true 
light on Dr. Southey's " extreme disingenuousness," as Mr» 
Conder justly brands the assertion, that "Bunyan has been 
most wrongfully represented as having been the victim oi 
Intolerant laws, and prelatical oppression." 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 215 



CHAPTER XX. 

Bunyan's ministerial position. 

1658. 

In order to appreciate, or even to apprehend, Bunyan's reasons 
for writing and acting as he did, it is necessary to have a 
clear idea, of his Ministerial position. That regulated, as 
well as influenced, his chief movements and habits. Had he 
not been a Baptist, he would have written a little more than 
his Pilgrim's Progress and the Holy War ; because he knew, 
that profounder theologians than he ever pretended to be, were 
publishing quite enough, both doctrinal and practical, for any 
nation to read : but he knew also, that the Baptists, as a body, 
would take a lesson from him more readily than from an 
Episcopalian, a Presbyterian, or an Independent ; or at least, 
that he would be read by many who would not read Owen nor 
Baxter. In like manner, had he not been more than a Bap- 
tist, he would have written less than he did. But he had to 
write against the Baptists as well as for them ; because, in 
general, they sprinkled all other churches then, with the bitter 
waters of strict communion. I say, sprinkled : but if any one 
choose to read, imme?'sed, fact will warrant the version. Bun- 
yan had no sympathy with this Shibboleth of his times. He 
was the Jirst to oppose it formally as a test of faith or fellow, 
ship : and thus, its best opponent — Robert Hall not excepted. 
He was not, however, the originator of open communion at 
Bedford. The Baptist Church there, was founded by Mr. 
Gifford in 1650, upon the principle, that a profession of faith 
in Christ, attended with holinesss of life, was the only condi- 
tion of Christian fellowship. 

Another thing which influenced him to write so much, and 
as well as he could, was, the consideration that he could not 
do too much for the glory of that grace which plucked him as 
" a brand from the burning." It is quite a mistake, that he 
wrote in order to beguile the tedious years of his imprisonment, 
or for the sake of authorship. He enjoyed indeed — no man 



216 LIFEOPBUNYAN. 

more — the exercise of his own talents, when he discovered 
them ; but he began to write, as he did to preach, from the 
single consideration, that he could speak to the hearts of both 
sinners and saints from an experience, to which both would 
listen, and neither could misunderstand. Besides, both expected 
Bunyan to address them. He had been too long and too far 
amongst the wild, in early life, to be forgotten by them, when 
deserted from their ranks. That ring looked after their ring- 
leader, when he ceased to lead them. They were amazed at 
his conversion from " prodigious profaneness to something 
like a moral life," even before he had left off dancing at the 
Maypole. When, therefore, he became altogether a Chris- 
tian, they calculated upon hearing from him in some form. 
They mocked him, because they feared him. He knew them ; 
and therefore wrote yhe Life and Death of Mr. Badman. He 
knew them ; and th/3refore when he saw them come to hear 
his preaching, he often said in his heart, " that if to be hanged 
before their eyes would be the means to awaken them, he 
would * gladly be contented.' " Thus the Minister tried all 
means to save some of those whom, in his youth, he had led 
on or joined in ungodliness. These were not few, nor all in 
one place. His most intimate companions in iniquity were, 
of course, about Bedford : but the Tinker had associated with 
the scum of every town and village in the county, whilst fol- 
lowing his craft. The minister did not forget this. Accord- 
ingly, his " great desire," as he calls it, " was to get into the 
darkest places of the country ; even amongst those people 
who were farthest off of a profession." " My spirit," he adds, 
" did lean most after awakening and converting work, and the 
word that I carried did lean itself most that way also." It 
was this leaning which led him to write that awakening Work, 
" Sighs from Hell ; or the Groans of a Damned Soul ;" a book 
no man could have written, who had not both seen and shared 
the ways of the most ungodly, as well as known the pangs of 
remorse. 

Bunyan's conversion drew the attention of the pious also, 
from the first ; and they never lost sight of him afterwards. 
They crowded to hear him when he began to preach, and 
longed to hear from him when he was imprisoned. He knew 
this, and wrote his Pilgrim for their edification, just as he did 
his " Grace Abounding," for the comfort of his own spiritual 
children, " whom he had begotten by the ministry of the 
word." 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 217 

Thus his popularity as a preacher was won, at first, by his 
*< amazing conversion." That told upon saint and sinner, 
throughout the county, as Saul's did upon Jew and Gentile. 
]t was not the novelty of a preaching Tinker in Bedfordshire, 
any more than that of a preaching Tentmaker at Corinth, that 
drew attention. Odd and unexpected preachers were no no- 
velty in Bunyan's time. Cromwell's soldiers preached too of- 
ter in their armour, to leave any singularity for the man who 
c^uld mend casques and kettles. Even stranger transitions 
than Bunyan's were not uncommon then. It was his moral 
and spiritual transformation, that drew so many eyes upon him 
at once. Both the godly and the ungodly paused to wonder, 
— not at the preaching Tinker, but at the holy and zealous 
man, whom they had long known as a reprobate. Only " the 
Doctors and Priests of the country," he says, " did open wide 
against me." The rabble seem never to have molested him. 

This is an interesting fact. Ivimey says truly, " there is 
no record in his Works, nor in authentic sources, that he was 
ever the object of derision and virulence among the lower 
classes." The only intimation of the kind is in Ireland's 
Print of Bunyan's cottage. I ha"ve preserved that print ; but 
expunged from it both the rabble and the dog, which Ireland, 
the forger of the Shakspeare documents, foisted in for effect. 
I did this before seeing his original draughts of these forged 
papers ; and since, I am quite satisfied that I do his memory 
no injury^ He could do any thing for eftect. 

It is honourable to Bunyan's times, as well as to himself, 
that his character and talents commanded the veneration of 
all rabbles, except the rabble Magistracy of the Restoration. 
The common people, with the exception of a few half-crazy 
Quakers, heard him gladly. 

This glimpse at Bunyan's ministerial position, although it 
embraces a little more than belongs to the first years of his 
preaching, was necessary, in order to understand his own ac- 
count of the character and success of his itinerant labours. 
We have seen, that for the space of two years, he imitated 
John the Baptist chiefly, by warning the multitude to flee from 
the wrath to come. This fact renders the reception he met 
with, the more creditable to them. He had not to say to them, 
" Strike, but hear :" — they listened to his remonstrances and 
warnings without threatening to strike, or venturing to stir. 
Nor was he less faithful to their consciences, when he began 
to preach " the fulness of the blessing of the Gospel." " I did 
19 



218 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

labour," he says, " to speak the Word so that thereby, if it 
were possible, the sin and the guilty person might be particu- 
larized by it." Those who have read Bunyan's sermons know 
well how he could particularize ! There is a personality, as 
well as point, in his improvements, which makes individuals 
stand out even to the eye of the reader. We almost expect 
the strain of his appeal to take a new turn, from some pente- 
costal outcry. 

Notliing, however, is so instructive in the history of his 
preaching, as his intense solicitude to win souls. Whatever 
was his subject, this was his grand object. Hence he says, on 
reviewing his preaching, " I thank God, my heart hath often, all 
the time of this and the other exercise, cried to God with great 
earnestness, that he would make the Word effectual to the salva- 
tion of the soul : being still grieved lest the Enemy should take 
it away from the Conscience, and so it should become unfruit- 
ful. And when T had done the exercise, it hath gone to my 
heart to think the Word should now fall in stony places. I 
was still wishing in my heart, — O, that they who have heard 
me speak this day, did but see as I do, what sin, death, hell, 
and the curse of God is ! And also (did see as I see) what 
the grace, and love, and mercy of God, through Christ, is, to 
men in such a case as they are, who are yet estranged from 
him !" Bunyan did not, like Paul, exactly desire to be Ana- 
thema, on these occasions of soul-travail : but he came very 
near to the Apostle's magnanimity, when he " did often say in 
his heart before the Lord, — ' I would gladly be hanged up be- 
fore their eyes presently, if that would be a means to awaken 
them, and confirm them in the truth.' " 

This is a spirit which God was sure to honour, and man to 
feel. Accordingly, Bunyan says, " I have been, in my preach- 
ing, especially when I have been engaged in the doctrine of 
life by Christ, without works, as if an Angel of God had stood 
at my back to encourage me ; oh ! it hath been with such 
power and heavenly evidence upon my own soul, while I have 
been labouring to unfold it, to demonstrate it, and to fasten it 
upon the consciences of oth(;rs, — that I could not be contented 
with saying, ' I believe, and am sure :' methought I was more 
than sure (if it be lawful so to express myself) that those 
things which I then asserted were true." He could thus afford, 
whilst he felt as if an Angel strengthened him, to shut his ears 
" when the Doctors and Priests of the country did open wide^^ 
upon him. Their railing could not make him rail. " I set 



I 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 219 

myself instead," he says, " to see how many of these carnal 
professors I could convince of their miserable state by the law, 
and of the want and worth of Christ : for, thought I, ' This 
shall answer for me in time to come, when they shall be for 
my hire before their face.' Gen. xxx. 33. 

" I never cared to meddle with things that were controvert- 
ed, and in dispute among the saints, especially things of the 
lowest nature ; yet it pleased me much to contend with great 
earnestness for the word of faith, and the remission of sins by 
the death and sufferings of Jesus ; but I say, as to other things, 
I would let them alone, because I saw they engendered strife ; 
and because that they neither in doing, nor in leaving undone, 
did commend us to God to be his. Besides, I saw my work 
before me did run into another channel, even to carry an 
awakening word ; — to that, therefore, I did stick and adhere. 

" I never endeavoured to nor durst make use of other men's 
lines (though I condemn not all that do,) for I verily thought, 
and found by experience, that what was taught to me by the 
word and spirit of Christ, could be spoken, maintained, and 
stood to, by the soundest and best established conscience ; and 
though I will not now speak all that I know, in this matter, yet 
my experience hath more interest in that text of Scripture, 
Gal. i. 11, 12, than many amongst men are aware : — ' I certi- 
fy unto you, Brethren, that the Gospel which is preached of 
me, is not after man. For I neither received it of man, nei- 
ther was I taught it, but by the revelation of Jesus Christ,' 

" If any of those who were awakened by my ministry, did 
after that fall back (as sometimes too many did,) I can truly 
say, their loss hath been more to me, than if my own children, 
begotten of my own body, had been going to their grave. I 
think verily, I may speak it without any offence to the Lord, 
nothing has gone so near me as that ; unless it was the fear of 
the loss of the salvation of my own soul. I have counted as if 
I had goodly buildings and lordships in those places where my 
(spiritual) children were born ; my heart had been so wrapt 
up in the glory of this excellent work, that I counted myself 
more blessed and honoured of God by this, than if he had made 
me the emperor of the Christian world, or the Lord of all the 
glory of the earth without it ! Oh these words ! * He that 
converteth a sinner from the error of his way doth save a soul 
from death. — The fruit of the riohteous is a tree of life ; and 
he that winneth souls is wise. — They that be wise shall shine 
as the brightness of the firmament, and they that turn many 



220 LIFE OF RTJNYAN. 

to righteousness as the stars for ever and ever. — For what is 
our hope, our joy, or crown of rejoicing ? Are not even ye in 
the presence of our Lord Jesus Christ at his coming ? For 
ye are our glory and joy.' These, I say, with many others 
of a hke nature, have been great Refreshments to me. 

" I have observed, that where I have had a work to do for 
God, I have had first, as it were, the going of God upon my 
spirit, to desire I might preach there. I have also observed, 
that such and such souls, in particular, have been strongly set 
upon my heart, and I stirred up to wish for their salvation ; 
and that these very souls have, after this, been given in as the 
fruits of my ministry. I have observed, that a word east in 
by the bye, hath done more execution in a sermon, than all 
that was spoken besides. Sometimes also, when I have thought 
I did no good, then I did the most of all ; and at other times, 
when I thought I should catch them, I have fished for nothing. 
" I have also observed, that where there has been a work to 
do upon sinners, there the devil hath begun to roar in the 
hearts and by the mouths of his servants : yea, oftentimes, 
when the wicked w^orld hath raged most, there hath been souls 
awakened by the word. — I could instance particulars, but I 
forbear. 

" My great desire in my fulfilling my ministry was to get 
into the darkest places of the country, even amongst those 
people that were farthest off of profession ; yet not because I 
could not endure the light, {for I feared not to show my gospel 
to any,) but because I found my spirit did lean most after 
awakening and converting work, and the word that I carried 
did lean itself most that way also : ' Yea, so have I strived to 
preach the gospel, not where Christ was named, lest I should 
build upon another man's foundation.' Rom. xv. 20. 

" In my preaching I have really been in pain, and have, as 
it were, travailed to bring forth children to God ^ neither could 
I be satisfied unless some fruits did appear in my work. If I 
were fruitless, it mattered not who commended me : but if I 
were fruitful, I cared not who did condemn. I have thought 
of that, ' Lo ! children are an heritage of the Lord : and the 
fruit of the womb is his reward. — As arrows are in the hand 
of a mighty man, so are children of the youth. Happy is the 
man that has his quiver full of them ; they shall not be 
ashamed, but they shall speak with the enemies in the gate.' 
Psal. cxxvii. 3. 

« It pleased me nothing to see people drink in gpinions, if 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 221 

they seemed ignorant of Jesus Christ, and the worth of their 
own salvation, sound conviction for sin, especially unbehef, 
and an heart set on fire to be saved by Christ, with strong 
breatliings after a truly sanctified soul. — That it was, that de- 
lighted me ; those were the souls I counted blessed. 

" But in this work, as in all other, I had my temptations at- 
tending me, and that of divers kinds ; as sometimes I should 
be assaulted with great discouragement therein, fearing that I 
should not be able to speak a word at all to edification ; nay, 
that I should not be able to speak sense unto the people ; at 
which times I should have such a strange faintness and 
strengthlessness seize upon my body, that my legs have 
scarce been able to carry me to the place of exercise. 

" Sometimes again when I have been preaching, I have been 
violently assaulted with thoughts of blasphemy, and strongly 
tempted to speak the words of my mouth before the congrega- 
tion. I have also at some times, even when I have begun to 
speak the word with much clearness, evidence, and liberty of 
speech, yet been, before the ending of that opportunity, so 
blinded and so estranged from the things I have been speak- 
ing, and have been also so straightened in my speech, as to 
utterance before the people, that I bave been as if I had not 
known or remembered what I have been about ; or as if my 
head had been in a bag all the time of my exercise. 

" Again, when as sometimes I have been about to preach 
upon some smart and searching portion of the word, I have 
found the tempter suggest, ' Wbat ! will you preach this ! This 
condemns yourself; of this your own soul is guilty ; wherefore 
preach not of this at all ; or if you do, yet so mince it, as to 
make way for your own escape ; lest instead of awakening 
others, you lay that guilt upon your own soul, that you will 
never get from under.' 

« But I thank the Lord, I have been kept from consenting 
to these so horrid sugcrestions, and have rather, as Samson, 
bowed myself with all my might, to condemn sin and transgres- 
sion, wherever I found it ; yea, though therein also, I did bring 
guilt upon my own conscience : ' Let me die (thought I) with 
the Philistines,' rather than deal corruptly with tiie blessed 
word of God. ' Thou that teachest anotiier, teachest thou not 
thyself? ' It is far better then to judge thyself even by preach- 
ing plainly unto others, than thou, to save thyself, imprison 
the truth in unrighteousness. Blessed be God for his help also, 
in this. 

19* 



222 LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 

" I have also, while found in this blessed work of Christ» 
been often tempted to pride and liftings up of heart." (In 
Mr. Toplady's works, vol. iv. p. 11, there is this anecdote: 
" Mr. John Bunyan having preached one day with peculiar 
warmth and enlargement, some of his friends, after service was 
over, took him by the hand, and could not help observing what 
a sweet sermon he had delivered. ' Ay,' said the good man, 
* you need not remind me of that, for the devil told me of it 
before I was out of the pulpit.' ") " I dare not say, I have 
not been affected with this ; yet truly the Lord, of his precious 
mercy, hath so carried it towards me, that for the most part I 
have had but small joy to give way to such a thing. For it 
hath been my every day's portion to be let into the evil of my 
own heart, and still made to see such a multitude of corrup- 
tions and infirmities therein, that it hath caused hanging down 
of the head under all my gifts and attainments. I have felt 
this thorn in the flesh : ' And lest I should be exalted above 
measure, through the abundance of the revelation, there was 
given to me a thorn in the flesh, the messenger of Satan to 
buffet me, lest I should be exalted above measure. For this 
thing I besought the Lord thrice that it might depart from me.' 
These verses w^ere the very mercy of God to me. 

" I have also had, together with this, some notable place or 
other of the word presented before me, which word hath con- 
tained in it some sharp and piercing sentence concerning the 
perishing of the soul, notwithstanding gifts and parts. As for 
instance, that hath been of great use to me : ' Though I speak 
with the tongues of men and angels, and have not charity, I 
am become as sounding brass, and a tinkling cymbal. And 
though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all myste- 
ries and all knowledge, and though I have all faith, so that 1 
could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing.' 
1 Cor. xiii. 1, 2. 

" A tinkling cymbal is an instrument of music, with which 
a skilful player can make such melodious and heart-inflaming 
music, that all who hear him play can scarcely hold from 
dancing ; and yet behold the cymbal hath not life, neither 
comes the music from it, but because of the art of him that 
plays therewith ; so then the instrument at last may come to 
naught and perish, though in times past such music hath been 
made upon it. 

" Just thus, I saw it was, and will be, with them that have 
gifts, but want saving grace ; they are in the hand of Christ, 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 223 

as the cymbal in the hand of David ; and David could with the 
cymbal make that mirth in the service of God, as to elevate 
the hearts of the worshippers, so Christ can use these gifted 
men, as with them to affect the souls of his people in his church; 
yet when he hath done all, hang them by, as lifeless, though 
sounding cymbals. 

" This consideration, therefore, together with some others, 
were for the most part, as a maul on the head of pride, and 
the desire of vain-glory ; What, thought I, shall I be proud 
because I am a sounding brass ? Is it so much to be a fiddle t 
Hath not the least creature that hath life, more of God in it 
than these ? Besides, I knew it was love should never die, but 
those must cease and vanish : so I concluded, a little grace, a 
little love, a little of the true fear of God, is better than all the 
gifts. Yea, and I am fully convinced of it, that it is possible 
for souls that can scarce give a man an answer, but with great 
confusion as to method ; I say, it is possible for them to have 
a thousand times more grace, and so to be more in the love 
and favour of the Lord, than some who by the virtue of the 
gift of knowledge, can deliver themselves like angels. 

" Thus therefore I came to perceive, that though gifts in 
themselves were good, to the thing for which they are designed, 
to wit, the edification of others, yet empty, and without power 
to save the soul of him that hath them, if they be alone. 
Neither are they, as so, any sign of a man's state to be happy, 
being only a dispensation of God to some, of whose improve- 
ment, or non-improvement, they must, when a little time more 
is over, give an account to Him that is ready to judge the 
quick and the dead. 

" This showed me too, that gifts being alone, were danger- 
ous, not in themselves, but because of those evils that attend 
them that have them, to wit, pride, desire of vain-glory, self- 
conceit, &,c. all which were easily blown up at the applause 
and commendation of every unadvised Christian, to the endan- 
gering of a poor creature to fall into the condemnation of the 
devil. 

" I saw therefore that he that hath gifts, had need to be let 
into a sight of the nature of them, to wit, that they come short 
of making of him to be in a truly saved condition, lest he rest 
in them, and so fall short of the grace of God. 

" He hath cause also to walk humbly with God, and be little 
in his own eyes, and to remember withal, that his gifts are not 
his own, but the church's ; and that by them he is made a 



2^4 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

servant to the church ; and he must give at last an account of 
his stewardship unto the Lord Jesus, and to give a good 
account will be a blessed thing. 

" Let all men therefore prize a little, with the fear of the 
Lord (gifts indeed are desirable,) but yet great grace and small 
gifts are better than great gifts and no grace. It doth not 
say, the Lord gives gifts and glory, but the Lord gives grace 
and glory ; and blessed is such an one, to whom the Lord 
gives grace, true grace ; for that is a certain forerunner of 
glory. 

" But when Satan perceived that his thus tempting and 
assaulting of me, would not answer his design ; to wit, to 
overthrow the ministry, and make it ineffectual, as to the ends 
thereof; then he tried another way, which was, to stir up the 
minds of the ignorant and malicious to load me with slanders 
and reproaches. Now therefore I may say, that what the 
devil could devise, and his instruments invent, was whirled up 
and down the country against me, thinking as I said, that by 
that means they should make my ministry to be abandoned, 

" It began therefore to be rumoured up and down among the 
people, that I was a witch, a Jesuit, a highwayman, and the 
like. 

" To all which, I shall only say, God knows that I am inno- 
cent. But as for mine accusers, let them provide themselves 
to meet me before the tribunal of the Son of God, there to 
answer for all these things (with all the rest of their iniquities) 
unless God shall give them repentance for them, for the which 
I pray with all my heart. 

" But that which was reported with the boldest confidence, 
was, that I had my misses, my whores, my bastards ; yea, two 
wives at once, and the like. Now these slanders (with the 
others,) I glory in, because but slanders, foolish or knavish 
lies, and falsehoods cast upon me by the devil and his seed ; 
and should I not be dealt with thus wickedly by the world, I 
should want one sign of a saint, and a child of God. 'Blessed 
are you,' said the Lord Jesus, ' when men shall revile you and 
persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil of you falsely 
for my sake ; rejoice and be exceeding glad, for great is your 
reward in heaven, for so persecuted they the prophets which 
were before you.' Matt. v. 11, 

"These things therefore, upon mine own account, trouble 
me not ; no, though they were twenty times more than they 
are, I have a good conscience ; and whereas they spea.k evil; 



L I F E O F B U N Y A N . 225 

of me, as an evil-doer, they shall be ashamed that falsely 
accuse my good conversation in Christ. 

" So then, what shall I say to those who have thus bespat, 
tered me ? Shall I threaten them ? Shall I chide them ] Shall 
I flatter them 1 Shall I entreat them to hold their tongues ? 
No, not I. Were it not for that these things make them ripe 
for damnation, that are the authors and abettors, I would say 
unto them, report it, becaase it will increase my glory. 

" Therefore I bind these lies and slanders to me as an orna- 
ment ; it belongs to my Christian profession to be vilified, 
slandered, reproached and reviled ; and since all this is nothing 
else, as my God and my conscience do bear me witness, I 
rejoice in reproaches for Christ's sake. 

" I also call all those fools and knaves that have thus made 
it any thing of their business to affirm any of these things 
aforenamed of me ; namely, that I have been naught with 
other women, or the like. When they have used the utmost 
of their endeavours, and made the fullest inquiry that they can, 
(I defy them) to prove against me truly, that there is any 
woman in heaven, or earth, or hell, that can say, I have at any 
time, in any place, by day or night, so much as attempted to 
be naught with them. And speak I thus to beg my enemies 
into a good esteem of me ? No, not I : I will in this beg belief 
of no man. Believe me or disbeUeve me in this, all is a case 
to me. 

" My foes have missed their mark in this their shooting at 
me. I am not the man. I wish that they themselves be guilt- 
less. If all the fornicators and adulterers in England were 
hanged up by the neck till they be dead, John Bunyan, the ob- 
ject of their envy, would be still alive and well. I know not 
whether there be such a thing as a woman breathing under the 
copes of the heavens, but by their apparel, their children, or 
by common fame, except my wife. 

" And in this I admire the wisdom of God, that he made me 
shy of women from my first conversion until now. These 
know, and can also bear me witness, with whom I have been 
most intimately concerned, that it is a rare thing to see me 
carry it pleasantly towards a woman ; the common salutation 
of women I abhor ; it is odious to me in whomsoever I see it. 
Their company alone, I cannot away with. I seldom so 
much as touch a woman's hand, for I think these things are 
not so becoming me. When I have seen good men salute 
those women that they have visited, or that have visited them, 



226 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

I have at times made my objection against it ; and when they 
have answered, that it was bat a piece of civihty, I have told 
them, it is not a comely sight. Some indeed have urged the 
holy kiss ; but then I have asked why they made baulks, why 
they did salute the most handsome, and let the ill-favoured go. 
Thus, how laudable soever such things have been in the eyes of 
others, they have been unseemly in my sight. 

•*And now for a wind-up in this matter ; I calling not only 
men, but angels, to prove me guilty of having carnally to do 
with any woman save my wife ; nor am I afraid to do it a se- 
cond time, knowing that I cannot offend the Lord in such a 
case, to call God for a record upon my soul, that in these 
things I am innocent. Not that I have been thus kept, be- 
cause of any goodness in me, more than any other, but God 
has been merciful to me, and has kept me : to whom I pray 
that he will keep me still, not only from this, but from every 
evil way and work, and preserve me to his heavenly kingdom. 
AmenT^ 

Such was Bunyan's own review of his work, warfare, and 
reward, as a Minister, up to the time of his imprisonment. It 
admits of much amplification and illustration ; but as it is 
complete in itself, I reserve the additional facts of the period, 
to throw light upon the origin and cast of some of his wri- 
tings, whilst he was a prisoner. For as a man and a minister, 
he is now sufficiently before us, to secure both our sympathy 
and confidence, as we follow him to the Jail and the Bar. 
Indeed, we are quite prepared already to exclaim, " This man 
doeth nothing worthy of death or of bonds," 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 227 



CHAPTER XXL 

bunyan's arrest. 

1660. 

Dr. Southey says " Bunyan was one of the first persons, 
after the Restoration, punished for Nonconformity." So he 
was : and as nonconformity was quite enough to account for 
his punishment, when the Act of the 35th of Elizabeth, as 
well as the spirit of Laud, was restored by the last and the 
worst Charles, there was no need for further explanations. 
Not so, however, has Dr. Southey allowed the matter to stand. 
He asserts, that Bunyan was ''known to be hostile to the re- 
stored church." He insinuates, that Bunyan's service in " the 
Parliament's army" had some influence upon his doom. He 
maintains, that Bunyan's "calling might well be deemed 
incompatible with his office." This is bad enough; but it is 
not the worst. The Fifth Monarchy men, who proclaimed 
King Jesus, are dragged in to account for the persecution of 
Bunyan, although he was lodged in Bedford Jail two months 
before Venxer, their leader, made the proclamation. Indeed, 
it was only on the 3d of April, Bunyan heard of it from Cobb, 
the Clerk of the Peace ! These attempts to explain and palli- 
ate the conduct of Bunyan's persecutors, might be forgiven, if 
the policy of either the Church or the State, at that time, 
were worthy or capable of any imitation now : — but they are 
unpardonable, now that neither Church nor State would, or 
could, revive that policy. Viewed in this light, it is infatua- 
tion to defend the Church, as Charles H. headed it, and Cla- 
rendon ruled il, and Jefi^ries sustained it. For, what would 
the defenders of the Church of that time, have us to believe ? 
If not, that the Establishment might yet persecute Noncon- 
formists in the old style, it is both unfriendly and unfair to 
palliate the old style of Prelacy. That, indeed, can only be 
done by arguments which, if they prove any thing, excuse 
Nero and Domitian, the Vatican and the Inquisition, far more 
than they do the Church of the Restoration. For the Non- 



228 LIFE OP BUNYAN. 

conformists of that age differed less from the thirty. nine Arti^ 
cles, than the first reformers did from the Church of Rome. 
And if Bunyan might well be persecuted for State reasons, 
Paul and Polycarp, Latimar and Ridley deserved their doom. 
The matter comes to this ! Here the logic of palliation 
lands us. 

Were I hostile to the Establishment, I would not espostu- 
late thus against defences of it, which defame the Puritans, 
and abet a King who superseded "the reign of the saints, by 
the reign of strumpets ; who was crowned in his youth with 
the Covenant in his hand, and died with the Host sticking in 
his throat, after a life spent in dawdling suspense between 
Hopbism and Popery" (JStZ. Rev.,) and in degrading bondage 
to levity and licentiousness. The Church would not persecute 
Bunyan now : why then should she be insulted by vindica- 
tions of his persecutors? She would not, even if she durst, 
revive the policy of the Restoration : why then should she 
own any "Book of the Church," which dares to justify that 
policy ? They are not her best friends who say, " Aha, we 
would have it so." 

The persecution of Bunyan for preaching did not com- 
mence, however, with the Restoration. An indictment was 
preferred against him in Cromwell's time. The Church 
Book, preserved at Bedford, contains this entry, " On the 25th 
December, 1657, the Church resolved to set apart a day for 
seeking council of God, what to do with respect to the indict, 
ment against brother Bunyan at the assizes, for preaching at 
Eaton." This action seems to have broke down ; for both 
in February and July of 1658, he was present at the Church- 
meetings of his flock. The fact is, it was not so easy to sus- 
tain an action of this kind during the Commonwealth, as be- 
fore and after it : for Cromwell, although he gave no counte- 
nance to persecution for conscience' sake, could not always 
prevent it. The Presbyterian party contrived to elude his vigi- 
lance, and to defeat his measures, at times. He described 
them well when he said, "Nothing will satisfy them, unless 
they can put their finger upon their brethren's conscience, 
and 'pinch them there." Indeed, as a party, they were a 
proud aristocracy, until the execution of Love, and the ele- 
vation of Owen, humbled them a little. In 1649, Parliament 
had to say of them, "Our being obliged to take away all such 
acts and ordinances as are penal in matters of conscience, 
hath given them great offence." This offence had not ceased 



LIFE OP BUNYAN. 229 

in 1657, when Bimyan was indicted. His grand offence, 
however, was his popularity in the country. It was that, 
" opened wide the mouths of the Priests and Doctors." Their 
flocks would hear the Tinker, in spite of all warning ; and 
therefore he was indicted as a wolf without even sheep's cloth- 
ing. This seems to have been the real secret of his first per- 
secution. Solemn drones could not keep him out of their par- 
ishes, nor always out of their pulpits ; for the people drew him 
into both : and the Geneva cloak could no more brook this 
then, than the surplice can now. Still, it could not prevent 
this, even in Cambridgeshire. He often preached in the 
churches of that county, and occasionally had gownsmen 
amongst his hearers. Crosby (the historian of the Baptists) 
says, that a Cambridge scholar — not one of the soberest — on 
hearing that a tinker was to preach in church, resolved " to 
hear him prate^"* and gave a boy twopence to hold his horse 
during the sermon. The sermon soon made him serious as 
well as sober. He began from that day to embrace every op- 
portunity of hearing Bunyan, whether in churches or barns, 
and became a godly man and a useful minister. This fact, 
although it does not exactly identify the author of the Sketch 
of Bunyan's Life, in the British Museum, shows that Bunyan 
had a clerical friend, who was likely to embalm his memory. 
My own opinion is, that this convert was the author of that 
Sketch. I am led to this conclusion, not merely because I 
cannot trace the tribute to any one else, but chiefly because it 
manifests so much intimacy with, and veneration for, Bunyan. 
The following account of his preaching and arrest could come 
only from one who loved him much, and who had strong rea- 
sons for loving him. 

-"He saw that his powerful and piercing words brought 
t€ars from the eyes, and melted the hearts (of his hearers;) but 
he knew that would not continue long upon them, without 
God's grace. But by often teaching, at last he saw such signs 
of contrition in his hearers, that he boldly expressed himself in 
St. Paul's words, ' Though I be not an apostle to others, yet 
doubtless I am unto you, for the seal of my apostleship are ye 
in the Lord.' 1 Cor. viii. 2. 

" By this time his family was increased, and as that in- 
creased God increased his stores, so that he lived now in great 
credit among his neighbours, who were amazed to find such a 
wonderful reformation in him ; that from a person so vile as 
ke had been, should spring up so good a Christian ; and people 

20 



230 LIFE OF BUN YAI^. 

who had heard his circumstances came many miles to hear 
him, and were highly satisfied ; so that, telling their neigh- 
hours, more crowded after him, insomuch that the place was 
many times too strait for them ; for although he often con- 
fessed he had fears upon him, and doubts, and sometimes trem- 
blings, inward evil suggestions, and temptations, before he 
stood up to speak, yet he no sooner began to utter the word of 
God than they all vanish* d ; he grew warm with a fervent 
zeal, and nothing obstructed his delivery. 

" His congregation, as I said, increasing, a stop was put to 
that liberty of conscience, that is, freedom in congregating 
and teaching, which had been indulged by proclamation in the 
former part of the reign of King Charles II. ; and the penal 
laws against dissenters being strictly put in execution against 
them, many were encouraged by rewards to inform against 
and prosecute those that met, 

" This hot prosecution silenced many, who fled because they 
were but hirelings, and cared not what became of the flock, so 
they got their fleeces ; but our true cfiamfion stood, resolved 
not to let go what God had so mercifully put into his hands ; 
yet that he might not appear contemptuous to the government 
he lived under, he thought fit to move in this with caution, and 
therefore assembled more privately, sometimes in a barn, at 
other times in a milk-house or stable, and indeed such conve- 
nient places as they could, to avoid giving offence : consider- 
ing it is not the place that God regards, but the purity of heart 
and intention. But these places were not so secret but prying 
eyes got an inlet, and some disturbances they had by the order 
of the justices, with louder threats, that, if they repeated the 
like again, they must expect to find no favour. 

" He finding he could not go on with his proceedings here, 
resolved, as it was commanded the apostles in such cases by 
our blessed Saviour, to fly unto another city or place ; and so 
acquainting most of his hearers whither he intended to retire, 
many followed him, and in his journeyings he visited many at 
their houses, and gave them consolation, arming them with a 
steady resolve to be patient in suffering, and trust to God for 
their reward, and promised them he would discuss some points 
in that nature at a private meeting, where their joint prayers 
being put up to God might be more available. 

" In short, they met one evening, to the number of about 
forty, yet could not do it so obscurely but that spies were upon 
them, and a justice in those parts being informed of it, came 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 231 

immediately upon them with several constables, and such as 
had promised to be aiding to them, and beset the house ; and 
upon the first demand the doors were opened ; and although 
Mr. Bunyan was persuaded (when news was brought they ap- 
proached) to fly by a back door into an adjacent wood, he 
would not be prevailed withal to do it in so good a work, but 
kept his standing, and continued speaking to the people when 
they entered. The justice commanded him down from his 
stand, but he mildly told him he was about his Master's busi- 
ness, and must rather obey his voice than that of man. Then 
a constable was ordered to fetch him down, who coming up and 
taking hold on his coat, no sooner did Mr. Bunyan fix his eyes 
steadfastly upon him, having his Bible then open in his hand, 
but the man let go, looked pale, and retired ; upon which said 
he to his auditors, ' Sae how this man trembles at the Word of 
God !' But knovvinoj it in vain to contend, beinor commanded 
in the king's name to be obedient, he came down, and was 
carried to the justice's house, the rest of the people being dis- 
missed ; where finding he must go to prison, and being startled 
a little at that, more for his family's sake than his own concern, 
he offered sufficient bail to appear and answer what charge 
should be laid against him, the next assizes or sessions, unless 
it would be given for his good behaviour, which was in their 
terms — • That he should teach no more :' but rather than any 
such thing should be enojaged on his behalf, that he never in- 
tended to keep, he resolved to cast himself and his cause upon 
God, what would come of it. 

*'To be brief, thoujjh manv intercessions and entreaties 
were made on his behalf, he was sent to Bedford jail, where 
sometimes he sighed, and sometimes, with Paul and Silas, he 
sung in prison psalms and hymns (o his Maker, that in his 
good time he would deliver him out of all his trouble ; and 
sent comfortable letters to his family, that they should not be 
cast down at his afflictions ; for that God, who had suffered 
him to fall unto them, would deliver him out of them. 

" The assizes come, amongst other prisoners, he was brought 
to answer for himself. He declared he had not, or ever de- 
signed any injury or prejudice to the government; but his 
mean endeavour was to show the ignorant the way to Ciirist 
and saving knowledge, which through mercy he hoped himself 
had found out ; and that although he could not comply with 
the ceremonies of the Church of England, though it was the 
national religion, he hoped that was no sin ; and as for his 



232 LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 

doctrine, he challenged all that had heard him, to prove it in 
any point or particular disconsonant to the word of God. 

" For they had charged him as a maintainer and upholder 
of routous and riotous meetings, unlawful conventicles and as- 
semblies, and not being in conformity v/ith the church estab- 
lished ; and urged him to know whether he would now conform 
or not, and leave off for ever his way of teaching : but ho re- 
solutely refusing so to do, and not denying that he had followed 
this way for about five years, they took it, jji'o confessio, that 
he was guilty of his charge, and proceeded, after they had laid 
their heads together for a time, to pass upon him a sentence 
of banishment out of the kingdom, not for limitation, but for 
ever : and so he was returned to prison, in expectation of its 
being put in execution. And whilst he was suffering under 
this affliction, between cold stone walls, in a close confinement, 
his enemies abroad were labouring to press down and stifle 
his reputation with calumnies and i-^proaches. They not 
only reaped up what was true of his former wicked life, but 
added many grievous things to his charge that he was utterly 
innocent and io-norant of. 

" Under this affliction his thoughts were many times various, 
and fears broke in upon him, for he knew not but, by the same 
rule^ they had power to banish him, they might cause him to 
be executed ; and this was buzzed into his ears by one of his 
jailors, thinking by this means to oblige him to raise a sum of 
money among his friends abroad, to purchase a reprieve or 
pardon, and that then he might come in for snack: yet he 
prepared for the worst, and resolved, if it came to be his hard 
fortune, by the assistance of God, he would die like a valiant 
Christian in such a cause. But when he came up to these re- 
solves, the care of his family would come upon him, and with 
a feeble tenderness disarm him of his resolution, so that he 
would be at a stand, to think what would become of his wife 
and poor children, if he were taken away from them, one of 
his children especially being blind and helpless : yet in the 
end, growing full of courage, and finding his former weakness 
but a temptation of Satan, he confirmed himself to seal his tes- 
timony, which way soever he should be called unto it. But 
having in expectation of the issue, continued upwards of twelve 
years, where he writ some good books, and found abundance 
of God's goodness to his soul, the Rev. Dr. Barlow, Bishop of 
Lincoln, coming into those parts, and being truly informed of 
Mr. Bunyan's sufferings, ho, out of a true Christian compassion. 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 233 

took a speedy caie to be tlie main and chief instrument in his 
dehverance ; for which, as a hearty acknowledgment, Mr. 
Biinyan returned him his unfeigned thanks, and often remem^ 
bered him in his prayers, as, next to God, his deUverer." 

This account, although imperfect, is worthy of preservation ; 
for if it did not come from the pen of his Cambridge convert, 
it was written by an Episcopal Clergyman, and is thus still 
more interesting, because the author was under no obligations 
to defend Bunyan. 

Bunyan's own Narrative of these events, is in his best 
style. It will show, indeed, that he had undue prejudices 
against the Liturgy ; but it will not prove him to have been a 
" hijih. minded," nor' a " hot-minded man," in the sense Dr. 
Sou they has called him so. He was too high-minded to sub- 
mit to dictation, as to how he should pray, or where he should 
preach ; a;id too hot-minded (for his " iieart had been kindled 
at the Book of Martyrs," Dr. Southey says) to heed the ban 
of a Bench, or the opinion of a Squirearchy, in matters of 
conscience and duty. And he was right ! For, what is the 
humour of a Court, the authority of a Conclave, or the whim of 
a Magistrate, when they interdict the preaching of the Gospel ? 
Impertinences to be despised by all free-men, and to be calmly 
defied by all conscientious men. Bunyan did both ; — and was 
the first to do so in Bedfordshire. 

Tiiis fact, — that he was the first, — although not overlooked 
by his Biographers, has never been placed in a proper light, by 
any of them ; and yet it is the key to both his doings and 
darino^s on this occasion. He was not actino; tor himself 
alone, nor for his Church in Badford only ; but for the whole 
body of his adherents and converts throughout the wide range 
of his Itineracy. He felt this, and nobly resolved to set them 
an example of unflinching steadfastness. For his village 
flocks did not appear to him, what Dr. Southey calls them, 
"Conventicles" for diffusinor "abhorrence of the Protestant 
Church ;" but for the difTusion of the great Protestant doctrine 
of Salvation, " by grace, through faith." By preaching this 
doctrine in the villages, Bunyan had won many hearts to love 
Christ and Holiness ; and that he might keep all he had won, 
he was ready to sacrifice himself in the service of their faith. 
He reasoned with himself thus, — ." I have showed myself 
hearty and courageous in my preaching, and made it my bu- 
siness to encourage others : if, tiierefore, I should run now, 
and make an escape, it will, thought I, be of a very ill savour 
30* 



234 LIFE OP BUN Y AN. 

in the country. For what will my weak and newly converted 
brethren think of it ; but that I was not so strong in deed, as 
I was in word ? Also I feared that, if I should run now there 
was a warrant out for me, I might, by so doing, make them 
afraid to stand, when great words only should be spoken to 
them. Besides, I thought that (seeing God, of his mercy, had 
chosen me to go upon the Forlorn Hope in this country,) if I 
should fly, it might be a discouragement to the whole body 
that might follow after ; I being (chosen) to be the first that 
should be opposed for the Gospel." This was Bunyan's chief 
reason for refusing to concede to Law or Advice, one iota of 
the rights of conscience. 

He had also public reasons for making a determined stand. 
*' I thought further. If I fly, the world will take occasion at my 
cowardliness to blaspheme the Gospel, and have some ground 
to suspect worse of me and my profession than I deserved : for, 
blessed be the Lord, I knew of no evil I had said or done." 
Bunyan was not over-rating himself when he " thus judged :" 
for, although still a Tinker, he had more influence as a Minis- 
ter than the Bishop of the diocese. His hammer had more 
moral weight than the Crozier, and his kit than the Mitre. He 
was no obscure nor uninfluential man, although still a very 
poor man ; and both the State and Church knew this, when 
they singled him out as one of their first victims : for he was 
apprehended before any Proclamation against the meetings 
was issued. 

But it is high time to allow Bunyan to tell his own story : 
for no man could tell it so well. " In November, 1660," (only 
Jive months after the return of the King,) •' I was desired by 
some of the friends in the country to come to teach at Sam- 
sell, by Harlington, in Bedfordshire. To whom I made a pro- 
mise, if the Lord permitted, to be with them at the time albre- 
said. The justice hearing thereof (whose name is Mr. Francis 
Wingate,) forthwith issued out his warrant to take me, and 
bring me before him, and in the mean time to keep a very 
strong watch about the house where the meeting should be 
kept ; — as if we that were to meet together in that place did 
intend to do some fearful business, to the destruction of the 
country ; when alas, the constable when he came in, found us 
only with our Bibles in our hands ready to- speak and hear the 
word of God : for we were just about to begin our exercise. 
Nay, we had begun in prayer for the blessing of God upon our 
opportunity, I intending to have preached the word of tlie 



LIFE OF BITNYAN. 235 

Lord unto them there present." (The text he proposed to 
have preached from was John ix. 34, " Dost thou beUeve on 
the Son of God ?") " But the constable coming in prevented 
us. So that I was taken, and forced to depart the room. But 
had I been minded to have played the coward, I could have 
escaped, and kept out of his hands. For when I was come 
to my friend's house, there was whispering there on that 
day I should be taken, for there was a warrant out to take 
me ; which when my friend heard, he being somewhat timor- 
ous, questioned whether we had best have our meeting or 
not ; and whether it might not be better for me to depart, 
lest they should take me and have me before the justice, and 
after that send me to prison (for he knew better than I what 
spirit they were of, living by them,) to whom I said, ' No ; 
by no means, I will not stir, neither will I have the meeting 
dismissed for this. Come, be of good cheer, let us not be 
daunted, our cause is good ; we need not be ashamed of it ; to 
preach God's word, is so good a work, that we shall be re- 
warded, if we suffer for that ;' or to this purpose. — (But as 
for my friend, I think he was more afraid of me than of him- 
self.) After this I walked into the close seriously considering 
the matter." 

Whilst in the close he pondered deeply his responsibility to 
the world and the Church, as we have seen. " These things, 
with others," he says, " being considered by me, I came in 
again to the house, with a. full resolution to keep the meeting, 
and not to go away, though I could have been gone about an 
hour before the officer apprehended me, but I would not ; for 
I was resolved to see the utmost of what they could say or do 
unto me. And so, as aforesaid, I begun the meeting. But 
being prevented by the constable's coming in with his war- 
rant to take me, I could not proceed. But before I went 
away, I spake some few words of counsel and encouragement 
to the people, declaring to them, that they saw we were pre- 
vented of our opportunity to speak and hear the word of God, 
and were like to suffer for the same : desiring them that they 
would not be discouraged ; for it was a mercy to suffer upon 
so good account ; for we might have been apprehended as thieves 
or murderers, or for other wickedness ; but blessed be God it 
was not so, but we suffered as Christians for well doing ; and 
we had better be the persecuted than the persecutors. But 
the constable and the Justice's man waiting on us, would not 
be quiet till they had me away, and that we departed the 



236 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

house. But because the Justice was not at home that day, 
there was a friend of mine engaged for me to bring me to the 
constable on the morrow morning. Otherwise the constable 
must have charged a watcli with me, or secured me some 
other way, my crime was so great. So on the next morning 
we went to the constable, and so to the Justice. He asked the 
constable. What we did ? — where we were met together ? — 
and, what we had with us ? I trow, he meant, whether we had 
armour or not ; but when the constable told him that there 
were only met a few of us together to preach and hear the 
word, and no sign of any thing else, he could not well tell what 
to say : yet because he had sent for me, he did adventure to 
put a few proposals to me, which were to this effect ; namely. 
What I did there ? And why 1 did not content myself with 
following my calling : for it was against the law, that such as 
I should be admitted to do as I did 1 

" BuNYAN, To which I answered, that the intent of my 
coming thither, and to other places, was to instruct and coun- 
sel people to forsake their sins, and close in with Christ, lest 
they did miserably perish ; and that I could do both these with- 
out confusion, (to wit) follow my calling and preach the word 
also. 

" At which words, he was in a chafe, as it appeared ; for he 
said that he would break the neck of our meetings. 

"Bun. I said, It may be so. Then he wished me to get 
sureties to b3 bound for me, or else he would send me to the 
jail. 

" My sureties being ready, I called them in, and when the 
bond for my appearance was made, he told them, that they 
were bound to keep me from preaching ; and that if I did 
preach, their bonds would be forfeited. To which I answered, 
that then I should break them ; for I should not leave speaking 
the word of God, to counsel, comfort, exhort, and teach the 
people among whom I came ; and I thought this to be a work 
that had no hurt in it ; but was rather worthy of commenda- 
tion, than blame. 

" WiNGATE. Whereat he told me, that if they would not be 
so bound, my mittimus must be made, and I sent to the jail, 
there to lie to the quarter-sessions. 

"Now while my mittimus was making, the Justice was 
withdrawn ; and in comes an old enemy to the truth. Dr. Lin- 
dale, who when he was come in, fell to taunting at me with 
many reviling terms. 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 2a7 

« Bun. To whom I answered, that I did not come thitlicr to 
talk with him, but with the Justice. Whereat he supposed 
that I had nothing to say for myself, and triumphed as if he 
had got the victory ; charging and condemning me for med- 
dling with that for which I could show no warrant. And 
aske°d me, if I had taken the oaths 1 and if I had not, 't was 
pity but that I should be sent to prison. 

" I told him, that if I was minded, I could answer to any 
sober question that he should put to me. He then urged me 
again (how I could prove it lawful for me to preach,) with a 
great deal of confidence of the victory. 

" But at last, because he should see that I could answer him 
if I listed, I cited to him that verse in Peter, which saith, 'As 
every man hath received the gift, even so let him minister the 
same,' &c. 

" LiNDALE. Ay, saith he, to whom is that spoken ? 

"Bun. To whom, said I, why to every man that hath 
received a gift from God. Mark, saith the apostle, 'As every 
man hath received a gift from God,' &c. And again, ' You 
may all prophesy one by one.' Whereat the man was a 
little stopt, and went a softlier pace : but not being willing to 
lose the day, he began again, and said : 

« LiND. Indeed I do remember that I have read of one Alex- 
ander, a mpyer smith, who did much oppose, and disturb the 
apostles. (Aiming 't is like at me, because I was a tinker.) 

" Bun. To which I answered, that I also had read of very 
many priests and pharisees, that had their hands in the blood 
of our Lord Jesus Christ. 

" LiND. Ay, saith he, and you are one of those scribes 
and pharisees : for you, with a pretence, make long prayers to 
devour widows' houses. 

" Bun. I answered, that if he had got no more by preach- 
ing and praying than I had done, he would not be so rich as 
now he was. But that scripture coming into my mind, 
' Answer not a fool according to his folly,' I was as sparing of 
my speech as I could, without prejudice to truth. 

" Now by this time my mittimus was made, and I commit- 
ted to the constable to be sent to the jail in Bedford. 

♦' But as I was going, two of my brethren met with me by 
the way, and desired the constable to stay, supposing that they 
should prevail with the Justice, through the favour of a pre- 
tended friend, to let me go at liberty. So we did stay, while 



238 LIFEOPBUNYAN. 

they went to the Justice, and after much discourse with him, it 
came to this ; that if I would come to him again, and say- 
some certain words to him, I should be released. Which when 
they told me, I said, if the words were such that might be 
said with a good conscience, I should, or else I should not. 
So, through their importunity I went back again, but not 
believing that I should be delivered : for I feared their spirit 
was too full of opposition to the truth, to let me go, unless I 
should, in somethmg or other, dishonour my God, and wound 
my conscience. Wherefore as I went, I lifted up my heart to 
God, for light, and strength, to be kept, that I might not do 
any thing that might either dishonour him, or wrong my own 
soul, or be a grief or discouragement to any that was inclining 
after the Lord Jesus Christ, 

" Well, when I came to the Justice again, there was Mr. 
Foster, of Bedford, who coming out of another room, and see- 
ing me by the light of the candle (for it was dark night when 
I went thither) he said unto me, who is there, John Bunyan ? 
with such seeming affection, as if he would have leaped on my 
neck and kissed me, (a right Judas /) which made me some- 
what wonder, that such a man as he, with whom I had so little 
acquaintance, and besides, that had ever been a close opposer 
of the ways of God, should carry himself so full of love to me : 
but afterwards, when I saw what he did, it caused me to 
remember those sayings, * Their tongues are smoother than 
oil, but their words are drawn swords.' And again, ' Beware 
of men,' &c. When I had answered him, that blessed be God 
I was well, he said, 'What is the occasion of your being here]' 
or to that purpose. To whom I answered, that I was at a 
meeting of people a little way off, intending to speak a word 
of exhortation to them ; but the Justice hearing thereof (said 
I) was pleased to send his warrant to fetch me before him. 

" Foster, So (said he) I understand : but well, if you will 
promise to call the people no more together, you shall have 
your liberty to go home ; for my brother is very loath to send 
you to prison, if you will be but ruled. 

"Bun. Sir, (said I) pray what do you mean by calling the 
people together ? My business is not any thing among them, 
when they are come together, but to exhort them to look after 
the salvation of their souls, that they may be saved, &c. 

" FosT. Saith he, we must not enter into explication, or 
dispute now ; but if you will say you will call the people no 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 239 

more together, you may have your hberty ; if not, you must 
be sent away to prison. 

" Bun. Sir, said 1, I shall not force or compel any man to 
hear me, but yet if I come into any place where there are 
people met together, I should, according to the best of my 
skill and wisdom, exhort and counsel them to seek out after 
the Lord Jesus Christ, for the salvation of their souls. 

" FosT. He said, that was none of my work : I must follow 
my calling ; and if I would but leave otF preaching and fol- 
low my calling, I should have the Justice's favour, and be ac- 
quitted presently. 

" KuN. To whom T said, that I could follow my calling 
and that too, namely, preaching the word : and I did look 
upon it as my duty to do them both, as I had an opportunity. 

" FosT. He said, to have any such meetings was against 
the law ; and therefore he would have me leave off, and say, 
I would call the people no more together. 

" Bun. To whom I said, that I durst not make any further 
promise : for my conscience would not suffer me to do it. 
And again, I did look upon it as my duty to do as much 
good as I could, not only in my trade, but also in communica- 
ting to all people wheresoever I came, the best knowledge T 
had in the word. 

"FosT. He told me, that I was the nearest the Papists of 
any ; and that, he would convince me of immediately. 

" Bun. I asked him wherein ? 

"FosT. He said. In that we understood the scriptures lite- 
rally. 

" Bun. I told him, that those that were to be understood 
literally we understood them so ; but for those that were to 
be understood otherwise, we endeavoured so to understand 
them. 

" FosT. He said, Which of the scriptures do you under- 
stand literally ? 

" Bun. I said, This, ' He that believes shall be saved.' 
This was to be understood just as it was spoken ; that who- 
soever believeth in Christ, shall, according to the plain and 
simple words of the text, be saved. 

"FosT. He said, that I was ignorant, and did not under- 
stand the scriptures ; for how (said he) can you understand 
them, when you know not the original Greek ? 

" Bun. To whom I said, that if that were his opinion, that 



240 LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 

none could understand the Scriptures, but those that had the 
original Greek, then but a very few of the poorer sort would 
be saved, (this is harsh) yet the Scripture saith, ' That God 
hides these things from the wise and prudent,' (that is, from 
the learned of the world,) 'and reveals them to babes and 
sucklings.' 

" FosT. He said there were none that heard me, but a com- 
pany of foolish people. 

"Bun. I told him that there were the wise as well as the 
foolish that did hear me ; and again, those that were most 
commonly counted foolish by the world, were the wisest before 
God. Also, that God had rejected the wise, and mighty, and 
noble, and chosen the foolish and the base. 

" FosT. He told me that I made people neglect their calling ; 
and that God had commanded people to work six days, and 
serve him on the seventh. 

" Bun. I told him that it was the duty of people (both rich 
and poor,) to look out for their souls on those days, as well as 
for their bodies : and that God would have his people 'exhort 
one another daily while it is called to-day.' 

"FosT. He said again, that there were none but a company 
of poor, simple, ignorant people, that came to hear me. 

" Bun. I told him that the foolish and the ignorant had 
most need of teaching and information ; and therefore it 
would be profitable for me to go on in that work. 

" FosT. Well, said he, to conclude, but will you promise 
that you will not call the people together any more?— and 
then you may be released, and go home. 

^'Bun. I told him that I durst say no more than T had said. 
For I durst not leave off that work which God had called 
me to. 

"So he withdrew from me, and then came several of the 
justice's servants to me, and told me, that I stood too much 
upon a nicety. Their master, they said, was willing to let me 
go ; and if I would but say that I would call the people no 
more together, I might have my liberty. 

"Bun. I told them, there were more ways than one in which 
a man might be said to call the people together. As for in- 
stance, if a man got upon the market-place, and there read a 
book, or the like, though he do not say to the people, Sirs, 
come hither and hear: yet if they come to him because he 
reads, he, by his very reading, may be said to call them to- 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 241 

gether ; because they would not have been there to hear, if he 
had not been there to read. And seeing this might be termed 
a calhng together, I durst not say, I would not call them to- 
gether ; for then, by the same argument, my preaching might 
be said to call them together. 

" Then came the Justice and Mr. Foster to me again, (we 
had a little more discourse about preaching, but because the 
method of it is out of my mind, I pass it,) and when they saw 
that I was at a point, and would not be moved nor persuaded, 
Mr. Foster told the justice, that then he must send me away 
to prison. And that he would do well also, if he would pre- 
sent all those that were the cause of my coming among them 
to meetings. Thus we parted. 

"And verily, as I was going forth of the doors, I had much 
ado to forbear saying to them, that I carried the peace of 
God along with me : but I held my peace, and blessed be 
the Lord, went away to prison with God's comfort in my 
poor soul ! 

"After I had lain in the jail five or six days, the brethren 
sought means again to get me out by bondsmen ; (for so ran 
my mittimus, that I should lie there till I could find sureties ;) 
they went to a justice at Elstow, one Mr. Crompton, to desire 
him to take bond for my appearance at the quarter sessions. 
At the first he told them that he would, but afterwards he 
made a demur at the business, and desired first to see my 
mittimus which ran to this purpose ; That I went about to 
several conventicles in the county, to the great disparage- 
ment of the government of the Church of England, &c. 
When he had seen it, he said there might be something more 
against me, than was expressed in my mittimus : and that he 
was but a young man, therefore he durst not do it. This my 
jailor told me. Whereat I was not at all daunted, but rather 
glad, and saw evidently that the Lord had heard me ; for be- 
fore I went down to the justice, I begged of God that if I 
might do more good by being at liberty than in prison, that 
then I might be set at liberty : but if not, his will be done ; 
for I was not altogether without hopes, but that my imprison- 
ment might be an awakening to the saints in the country, 
therefore I could not tell well which to choose. Only I in 
that manner did commit the thing to God. And verily at my 
return, I did meet my God sweetly in prison again, comfort- 
ing of me and satisfying of me that it was his will and mind 
that I should be there. 

21 



242 LIFE OF B TINY AN. 

"When I came back again to prison, as I was musing at the 
slender answer of the ju.stice, this word dropped in upon my 
heart with some life, ' For he knew that for envy they had de^ 
livered him.' 

" Thus have I in short, declared the manner and occasion 
of my being in prison, where I lie waiting the good will of 
God to do with me as he pleaseth; knowing that not one hair 
of my head can fall to the ground without the will of my Fa- 
ther which is in heaven. Let the rage and malice of men be 
never so great, they can do no more, nor go any farther, than 
God permits them ; but when they have done their worst, 
* We know that all things shall work together for good to them 
that love God.^ Rom. viii. 28. 

Of their Worships who figure on this occasion, not much is 
known, except of Justice Foster. I have been able to trace 
that " right Judas," as Bunyan calls him, throughout a perse* 
cution which he headed against the Bedford Nonconformists 
in 1670. The account of him will be found in the chapter, 
" Bunyan's Church Persecuted ;" and it will verify the oracle, 
that "evil men and seducers wax worse and worse." Foster 
began as a Judas, and ended as a Herod. Dr. Lindale was 
evidently a beneficed clergyman, and of Bedford too. He could 
not otherwise have taken such a lead in the examination of 
Bunyan. And as he was an " old enemy of the truth," and 
now a new enemy of its preachers, the law which made it 
obligatory to attend that man's ministry, or that of men like 
him, was an insult to both conscience and common-sense. 
Who can wonder that the Nonconformists, who had heard or 
read the sermons of the Owens and Baxters, the Howes and 
Bunyans, of the Commonwealth, refused to hear at all, not a 
few of the priesthood of the Restoration ? Let us judge right* 
eous judgment ! All evangelical Churchmen of the present 
day would disobey any law which attempted to bind them to 
hear Puseyite Popery, or Hawkerite Antinomianism. Their 
consciences would not brook such an outrage on truth. Well ; 
the Pelagianism of the Restoration was just as abhorrent to 
the Nonconformists then, as the Oxford Tracts are to sound 
Churchmen now. True ; the Dissenters disliked Episcopacy 
as much as Pelagianism, and did nx)t believe in the apostolicity 
of such Doctors as Lindale, nor in the authority of such Bishops 
as Laud : but do not Churchmen dislike Independency, and 
disbelieve the apostolic descent of the Puseyites? No law 
could alter their opinion of these things, much as they revere 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 243 

magisterial authority in religion. Tens of thousands of them 
would remain Episcopalians, if either Presbyterianism or In- 
dependency were established in England to-morrow. Thus 
they would just do what the Nonconformists of Bunyan's times 
did — obey only as they believe, in matters of religion. Bun- 
yan went to prison in the very same spirit as the Bishops went 
to the Tower afterwards. Why then should he be held up as 
unreasonable or contumacious 1 His conscience was just as 
good, and as worthy of respect, as Archbishop Sancroft's ; and 
Bunyan and his fellow prisoners had just as much influence 
upon the Protestantism of the poor, as " The Seven Golden 
Candlesticks " had on that of the aristocracy. 

These remarks are hung upon Lindale's horns, because his 
character is not unknown, although his history cannot be 
given : for it was evidently Dr. Lindale, whom Bunyan cut up 
into the several Witnesses who gave evidence against Faith- 
FUL, before Lord Hategood, at Vanity Fair. Envy, Supersti- 
tion, and Pickthank, are only aliases of Lindale. Had this 
pillorying unto all posterity been understood, it would have 
deterred other Doctors, and Bishop Fowler among the rest, from 
connecting their names with ill-natured sarcasms upon John 
Bunyan. The man who does that, puts himself into a life-boat, 
which will land none of its passengers, until the heavens and 
the earth be no more. Even the man who "blows hot and 
cold" on Bunyan's memory, cannot get out. Dr. Owen had 
a very narrow escape from being taken into this boat, when 
the strict Baptists persuaded him to " waive" his promise of 
prefacing Bunyan's work on Communion. 

It is thus a serious matter to tamper with the men who, 
" like the first lion, pazo themselves out of the earth," by their 
own unearthly power, and then shake the whole forest of so- 
ciety by their first majestic roar. The hand that touches their . 
mane in scorn or wantonness, may not wither ; but it contracts 
a leprous spot which lasts for ever. Dr. Johnson touched 
Milton thus ; and he must bear the marks of his presumption 
until Milton be forgotten. Even Brougham perilled himself 
at the University of Glasgow, by not naming Milton amongst 
the masters and models of eloquence, in his Inaugural Dis- 
course. This oversight would have been unpardonable, had 
not the Lord Rector made Milton his own model, whilst com- 
mending Hooker and Taylor to the students. But of all who 
have suffered for such tampering with the mighty. Bishop 



244 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 



Hall, our theological Seneca, is most to be pitied ; for whether 
it was his son or himself who denounced Milton as a " miscre- 
ant wretch," the cry, " Stone him to death," came from the 
palace of Norwich. This may easily be forgiven to the author 
of the " Contemplations ;" but it can never be forgotten. 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 245 



CHAPTER XXII. 

bunyan's trial. 

1661. 

BuNYAN was tried by Jive justices, whose names will be as 
widely known and as imperishable as " The Five Points," 
although for other reasons. Keeling, Chester, Blundale, Bee- 
chir, and Snagg, will be red-letter names for ever, in the Al- 
manac of Persecution. Dr. Southey has not at all removed 
them from this 

" Bad eminence," 

nor made their standing more honourable, by declaring that he 
felt ^^bound " to say, " that Bunyan has been most wrongfully 
represented as having been the victim of intolerant laws, and 
prelatical oppression." These justices were both the inter- 
preters and representatives of law and prelacy ; and as he has 
neither shown that they went beyond their commission, nor 
that they disgraced it, even when they said that Bunyan's god 
was Beelzebub, and his spirit the devil, both law and prelacy, 
as they then reigned, must now stand with them. One of 
them. Sir George Blundale, could cudgel Nonconformists, as 
well as question, insult, and fine them, when informers brought 
them before him at his own house : — like his friend Foster, who 
signalized himself, at the same time, by well nigh ruining a 
poor pipe-maker, and then telling him that his children " must 
5iarue," if he continued " a rebel." See the chapter — "Bun- 
yan's Church Persecuted." Justice Chester did all he could 
to set Sir Matthew Hale against Bunyan. Keeling, the judge 
in this junto, could ape both the insolent buffoonery, and 
breathe the ruffian spirit, of Jefferies. Indeed, he almost ri- 
valled that laughing -hycena, when he called Bunyan's defence, 
" canting in pedlar's Latin ;" and concluded his sentence of 
imprisonment by the brutal threat, '• You must stretch by the 
»eck for it, if you do not submit ; — I tell you plainlv." His 
2,1* 



246 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 



learning also equalled that of the popish dignitary, at the Re- 
formation, who pronounced the Hebrew to be a newly invented 
language : Keeling, with equal erudition, affirmed that the 
Prayer Book had been " since the time of the apostles." Still, 
with all his faults, he had sense enough to acknowledge that it 
is mere ^^babbling,^^ for men who have no piety, to address God 
as their " Father," by the Lord's Prayer. 

These hints concerning the justices, will prepare the reader 
for Bunyan's own account of his trial. " After I had lain in 
prison above seven weeks," he says, "the Quarter Sessions 
were to be kept in Bedford, for the county thereof; unto which 
I was to be brought ; and when my jailor had set me before 
these justices, there was a bill of indictment preferred against 
me. The extent thereof was as followeth : ' That John Bun- 
yan, of the town of Bedford, labourer, being a person of such 
and such conditions, he hath (since such a time) devilishly and 
perniciously abstained from coming to church to hear divine 
service, and is a common upholder of several unlawful meet- 
ings and conventicles, to the great disturbance and distraction 
of the good subjects of this kingdom, contrary to the laws of 
our sovereign lord the king,' &;c. 

" The Clerk. When this was read, the clerk of the sessions 
said unto me, What say you to this ? 

" Bun. I said, that as to the first part of it, I was a common 
frequenter of the church of God. And was also, by grace, a 
member with the people, over whom Christ is the Head. 

"Keeling. But saith Justice Keeling, (who was the judge 
in that court,) Do you come to church, (you know what I mean) 
to the parish church, to hear divine service ? 

" Bun. I answered. No, I did not. 

" Keel. He asked me why ? 

" Bun. I said, because I could not find it commanded in the 
word of God. 

" Keel. He said we were commanded to pray. 

" Bun. I said, but not by the common prayer-book. 

" Keel. He said how then ? 

" Bun. I said, with the spirit. As the apostle saith, * I 
will pray with the spirit, and with the understanding.' 1 Cor. 
xiv. 15. 

" Keel. He said we might pray with the spirit, and with 
the understanding, and with the common prayer-book also. 

" Bun. I said that the prayers in the common prayer-book 
were such as were made by other men, and not by the motion 



1 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 247 

of the Holy Ghost within our hearts ; and as I said, the apostle 
saith, he will pray with the spirit, and with the understanding ; 
not with the spirit and the common prayer-book. 

" Another Justice. What do you count prayer ? Do 
you think it is to say a few words over before, or among a 
people ? 

" Bux. I said, no, not so ; for men might have many elegant 
or excellent words, and yet not pray at all : but when a man 
prayeth, he doth through a sense of those things which he 
wants (which sense is begotten by the Spirit) pour out his 
heart before God through Christ : though his words be not so 
many and so excellent as those of others are. 

" Justices. They said that was true. 

" Bun. I said, this might be done without the common pray- 
er-book. 

" Another. One of them said (I think it was Justice Blun- 
dale, or Justice Snagg,) How should we know, that you do 
not write out your prayers first, and then read them after- 
wards to the people ? This he spake in a laughing way. 

" Bun. I said, it is not our use, to take a pen and paper and 
write a few words thereon, and then go and read it over to a 
company of people. 

" But how should we know it ? said he. 

*' Bun. Sir, it is none of our custom, said I. 

" Keel. But said Justice Keeling, it is lawful to use the 
common prayer, and such like forms : for Christ taught his 
disciples to pray, as John also taught his disciples. And fur- 
ther, said he, Cannot one man teach another to pray ? ' Faith 
comes by hearing :' and one man may convince another of sin, 
and therefore prayers made by men, and read over, are good to 
teach, and help men to pray. 

" Whilst he was speaking these words, God brought that 
word into my mind, in the eighth of the Romans, at the 26th 
verse : I say God brought it, for I had not thought on it be- 
fore : but as he was speaking:, it came so fresh into my mind, 
and was set as evidently before me. as if the Scripture itself 
had said, ' Take me, take me ;' — so when he had done speak- 

ing, 

" Bun. I said, Sir, the Scripture saith, that ' it is the Spirit 
that helpeth our infirmities ; for we know not what we should 
pray for as we ought : but the Spirit itself maketh intercession 
for us, with groanings which cannot be uttered.' Mark, said I, 
it doth not say the common prayer-book teacheth us how to 



248 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

pray, but the Spirit. And ' it is the Spirit that helpeth our 
infirmities,' saith the apostle ; he doth not say it is the common 
prayer-book. 

" And as to the Lord's-prayer, although it be an easy thing 
to say, ' Our Father,' &c. with the mouth ; yet there are very 
few that can, in the Spirit, say the two first words in that 
prayer ; that is, that can call God their Father, as k?iowing 
what it is to be born again, and as having experience that they 
are begotten of the Spirit of God ; which if they do not, all is 
but babbling, &,c. 

" Keel. Justice Keeling said, that this was a truth. 

" Bun. And I say further, as to your saying that one man 
may convince another of sin, and that ' faith comes by hear- 
ing,' and that one man may tell another how he should pray, 
&c. I say men may tell each other of their sins, but it is the 
Spirit that must convince them. 

" And though it be said that ' faith comes by hearing :' yet 
it is the Spirit that worketh faith in the heart through hearing, 
or else, they are not profited by hearing. 

" And that though one man may tell another how he should 
pray : yet as I said before, he cannot pray, nor make his con- 
dition known to God, except the Spirit help. It is not the 
common prayer-book that can do this. It is the Spirit that 
showeth us our sins, and the Spirit that showeth us a Saviour : 
and the Spirit that stirreth up in our hearts' desires to come 
to God, for such things as we stand in need of, even sighing 
out our souls unto him for them with ' groans which cannot 
be uttered.' With other words to the same purpose. At this 
they were set. 

" Keel. But says Justice Keeling, what have you against 
the common prayer-book? 

" Bun. I said. Sir, if you will hear me, I shall lay down my 
reasons against it. 

" Keel. He said, I should have liberty ; but first, said he, 
let me give you one caution ; take heed of speaking irreverent- 
ly of the common prayer-book ; for if you do so, you will bring 
great damage upon yourself. 

" Bun. So I proceeded, and said, my first reason was be- 
cause it was not commanded in the word of God, and therefore 
I could not use it. 

« Another. One of them said, where do you find it com- 
nianded in the Scripture, that you should go to Elstow or 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 249 

Bedford, and yet it is lawful to go to either of them, is it 
not? 

" Bun. I said, to go to Elstow, or Bedford was a civil thing, 
and not material, though not commanded ; and yet God's word 
allowed me to go about my calling, and therefore if it lay there, 
then to go thither, &c. But to pray, was a great part of the 
divine worship of God, and therefore it ought to be done ac- 
cording to the rule of God's word. 

" Another. One of them said, he will do harm : let him 
speak no further. 

" Just. Keel. Justice Keeling said, No, no, never fear him, 
we are better established than that ; he can do no harm : we 
know the Common Prayer-Book hath been ever since the apos- 
tles' time, and it is lawful for it to be used in the church. 

" Bun. I said, show me the place in the epistles, where the 
common prayer-book is written, or one text of Scripture, that 
commands me to read it, and I will use it. But yet notwith- 
standing, said I, they that have a mind to use it, they have 
their liberty, that is, I would not keep them from it : but for 
our parts, we can pray to God without it. Blessed be his 
name ! 

" With that one of them said. Who is j'our God, Beel- 
zebub ? Moreover, they often said I was possessed with 
the spirit of delusion, and of the devil. All which sayings, I 
passed over ; the Lord forgive them ! And further, I said, 
blessed be the Lord for it, we are encouraged to meet together, 
and to pray, and exhort one another ; for we have had the 
comfortable presence of God among us ; for ever blessed be 
his holy name ! 

" Keel. Justice Keeling called this pedlar^s French, say- 
ing, that I must leave off my canting. The Lord open his 
eyes ! 

" Bun. I said, that we ought to ' exhort one another daily 
while it is called to-day.' 

" Keel. Justice Keeling said, that I ought not to preach. 
And asked me where I had my authority ! — with other such 
like words. 

" Bun. I said, that I would prove that it was lawful for me, 
and such as I am, to preach the word of God. 

" Keel. He said unto me, by what Scripture ? 

" I said, by that in the first epistle of Peter, the ivth chap, 
the 11th ver. and Acts the xviiith, with other scriptures, which 



250 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

he would not suffer me to mention. But said, hold ; not so 
many ; which is the first ? 

" Bun. I said this : ' As every man hath received the gift, 
even so let him minister the same unto another, as good 
stewards of the manifold grace of God : if any man speak, let 
him speak as the oracles of God,' &c. 

" Keel. He said, let me a little open that scripture to you : 
< As every man hath received the gift ;' that is, said he, as 
every man hath received a trade so let him follow it. If any 
man have received the gift of tinkering, as thou hast done, let 
him follow his tinkering. And so other men their trades. 
And the Divine his calhng, &c. 

" Bun. Nay, Sir, said I, but it is most clear, that the apos- 
tle speaks here of preaching the Word ; if you do but com- 
pare both the verses together, the next verse explains this gift, 
what it is ; saying, 'If any man speak, let him speak as the 
oracles of God.' So that it is plain, that the Holy Ghost doth 
not so much in this place exhort to civil callings, as to the ex- 
ercise of those gifts that we have received from God. I would 
have gone on, but he would not give me leave. 

" Keel. He said we might do it in our families, but not 
otherwise. 

" Bun. I said, if it were lawful to do good to some, it was 
lawful to good to more. If it were a good duty to exhort 
our families, it was good to exhort others : but if they held it 
a sin to meet together to seek the face of God, and exhort 
one another to follow Christ, I should sin still : for so we should 
do. 

"Keel. He said he was not so well versed in scripture as 
to dispute, or words to that purpose. And said, moreover, that 
they could not wait upon me any longer ; but said to me, then 
you confess the indictment, do you not ? Now, and not till 
now, I saw I was indicted ! 

" Bun. I said, this I confess, — we have had many meetings 
together, both to pray to God, and to exhortone another, and 
that we had the sweet comforting presence of the Lord among 
us for our encouragement, blessed be his name ; therefore, I 
confess myself guilty, and no otherwise. 

" Keel. Then said he, hear your judgment. * You must be 
had back again to prison, and there lie for three months fol- 
lowing ; and at three months' end, if you do not submit to go 
to church to hear divine service, and leave your preaching, you 
must be banished the realm : and if, after such a day as shall be 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 251 

appointed you to be gone, you shall be found in this realm, dec. 
or be found to come over again without special license from the 
king, &c. you must stretch by the neck for it, I tell you plainly ;' 
and so he bid my jailor have me away. 

" Bun. I told him, as to this matter, I was at a point with 
him : for if I were out of prison to-day, I would preach the 
gospel again to-morrow^ by the help of God. 

" Another. To which one made me some answer ; but my 
jailor pulling me away to be gone, I could not tell what he 
said. 

" Thus I departed from them ; and I can truly say, I bless 
the Lord Jesus Christ for it, that my heart was sweetly refreshed 
in the time of my examination, and also afterwards, at my 
returning to the prison : so that I found Christ's words more 
than bare trifles, where he saith, ' He will give you a mouth 
and wisdom, which all your adversaries shall not be able to 
gainsay, nor resist.' This peace no man can take from us. 

" Thus have I given you the substance of my examination. 
The Lord make this profitable to all that shall read or hear it. 
Farewell." 

This trial is wonderfully like some earlier trials, which are 
now universally condemned by Protestants. Thus the Lollards 
and Wycliffites were treated by the Church and State of their 
times : but what Protestant would call them unreasonable ; or 
say of them, that having persuaded themselves " by weak argu- 
ments, they used them as strong ones ;" or distinguish between 
them and Martyrs " who had no other alternative than idolatry 
or the stake V Not Dr. Southey, certainly. And yet, thus 
he distinguishes between Bunyan, and the Martyrs whose 
example Bunyan was prepared to follow. Why ? Because, 
he says, Bunyan was " neither called upon to renounce any 
thing that he did believe, nor to prof ess any thing he did not." 
— Life, p. 70. Now it is true that, " except in the point of 
infant baptism, he did not differ a hair's breadth from the doc- 
trines " of the Church of England. So far there is no par- 
allel between Bunyan and the first Protestant martyrs. But 
although the points for which he contended were not the same, 
the penalty for preaching them " up and down the country " 
Avas imprisonment, banishment, or death : and therefore, the 
less he differed from the Church in doctrine, the more culpable 
was the Church in calling for the sword of the Magistrate. 
Never were her Altars or her Liturgy so profaned^ as when 
attendance on them was enforced by fines, chains, and dun- 



252 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

geons. This was a desecration of them, viler than any which 
the most fanatical of the Roundheads perpetrated. The 
Prayer-Book was shamefully insulted when it was tossed by 
their spears, and torn by their mailed hands : but it was 
disgraced, when its own votaries enforced it by batons, brands, 
and the sword. When thus bristled with weapons so unlike 
itself, and so alien to its holy design, Bunyan was more than 
justified in rejecting the use of it, and in refusing to worship 
where it was used : for, what was it but an idol, when, like 
the golden image on the plain of Dura, the fiery furnace sus- 
tained its claims ? The King and the Church went as far 
beyond their prerogative when they commanded all men to 
worship by it, as Nebuchadnezzar when he commanded all men 
to worship his golden image. Besides, the Sword in Religion 
is as much an idol as Moloch or Baal. No idolatry which the 
first Protestants " resisted even unto blood," was more opposed 
to either the letter or the spirit of Christianity, than the sword 
of persecution. Bunyan was, therefore, ready to go to the 
stake for the same principle that the Lollards and Wyclifhtes 
went to it. He knew the spirit of Christianity, although the 
Church mistook it, and although the author of " The Book of 
the Church," says, that "John Bunyan did not ask himself 
how far the case of those Martyrs resembled the situation in 
which he was placed." He saw, if Dr. Sou they do not, that 
resistance unto blood, against a system which " reigned unto 
death," was " a plain duty wherewith there may be no com- 
promise." — Life. This jling at Bunyan's martyr-spirit, as 
influenced by weak arguments, is very like Dr. Lingard's 
explanation of that faithful martyr, Sawtre, whom Arundel 
burnt at Smithfield, in 1401 ; — " The enthusiast aspired to the 
crown of martyrdom, and had the satisfaction to fall a victim 
to his own folly." 

In thus animadverting upon the Church of the Restoration 
I do not forget that the Church of the Commonwealth persecu- 
ted also. Laws or swords forbidding the Prayer-Book, were 
as unchristian as those which enforced it. Dissenters, how- 
ever, do not palliate the errors of the Puritans, nor sneer at the 
victims of their intolerance. No Nonconformist pen would 
underrate the imprisonment, or the privations, of Bishops Hall 
and Taylor. They too were high-minded and hot-minded 
men ; engaged in " a course of dangerous activity," at one 
time ; but who would flippantly say of them, that they " had 
leisure in confinement, to cool and ripen ? " No good cause can 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 253 

be promoted or upheld, by disparaging the spirit, motives, or 
reasons of such men as Taylor, Hall, and Bunyan, when they 
became sufferers for conscience' sake. Even historical truth 
is trifled with, when it is said of Bunyan, that " he was only 
required not to go about the country holding conventicles." 
Well might Conder call this " extreme disingenuousness," 
seeing " the statute under which Bunyan was indicted, render- 
ed his nonconformity itself a crime ; for his abstaining from 
coming to Church was placed at ihQ front o^ his offence: and 
he was not only required to profess what, in him, would have 
been hypocrisy, but to renounce what he believed to be his 
sacred duty." — Life, p. 25. 

His own explanations in the Pilgrim's Progress, will best 
close this chapter : Faithful is made to say, *' In answer to 
what Mr. Envy hath spoken, I never said aught but this ; — that 
what rule, or laws, or custom, or people, were fat against the 
Word of God, are diametrically opposite to Christianity. As 
to Mr. Superstition, and his charge against me, I said only this, 
— that in the worship of God a divine faith is required, and 
there can be no divine faith without a divine Revelation of the 
will of God. Therefore, whatever is thrust into His worship, 
not agreeable to divine Revelation, cannot be done but by a 
human faith ; which faith will not be profitable to Eternal 
Life." 



22 



254 LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 



CHAPTER XXIIi. 

bunyan's defence. 

1661. 

BuNYAlv's defence did not end with his trial. He had to argue 
the question over again with the Clerk of the Peace and the 
Jailor. " The Justices," as he calls them, seem, like Pilate, to 
have " feared the people ;" and therefore sent Cobb, the Clerk, 
to negociate with him privately. And they chose well : for 
Cobb was a good diplomatist, and Bunyan regarded him as a 
friend. This circumstance brought out a full view of Bun- 
yan's spirit. He spoke without reserve or suspicion ; and 
thus, although he furnished his Tempter with weapons which 
were afterwards wielded against himself, he also threw open 
his heart to posterity, and showed at once his metal and mo- 
tives. Neither Cobb's reasonings, nor the Jailor's kind re- 
monstrances, moved him at all, except to acknowledge their 
"meekness;" a compliment which the cobwebs ill deserved; 
for they were spun to ensnare him, as the Spider showed even- 
tually. 

This does not appear from the process of the negociation. 
Throughout that, Cobb seems a kind, although not a wise, 
friend ; and Bunyan somewhat obstinate, as well as firm : for 
he refused to accept the liberty of exhorting his neighbours 
privately. He would be nothing but a Preacher, or a Prison- 
er ; a Minister, or a Martyr ! This was not obstinacy in him. 
He had felt it to be his duty to preach salvation to others, even 
when he had little or no hope of salvation for himself. Neither 
the fear nor the fire of the wrath of God, even when at their 
height in his own mind, could stop him from warning men to 
flee from that wrath. It was not likely, therefore, that the 
wrath of man would weigh with him. 

Besides, he had learned, by some means, that WyclifTe had 
said, " Whoever leaveth off preaching the Word of God for 
fear of excommunication from men, is excommunicated by 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 255 

God already, and shall be counted a Traitor to Christ in the 
day of judgment." This was enough for Bunyan ; for Wr- 
CLiFFE had said it ! No matter that he could not read the 
" Impedimenta Evangelizantium,^^ nor that he had no access to 
the EngUsh MS. at Cambridge, entitled, " How Antichrist and 
his Clerkis feran trewe prestis fro prechyinge of Christis gos- 
pel," — he knew the Author's opinion, and identified himself 
with it, although he had no Duke of Lancaster, nor any Lord 
Percy, to awe his enemies. 

It is a curious coincidence, that the Monkish historians im- 
plicate WyclifFe in the insurrection of Watt Tyler, just in 
the same way that Dr. Southey connects Venner^s insurrection 
with Puritanism and Bunyan's arrest ! 

These hints will enable the reader to appreciate Bunyan's 
narrative of what he calls, " The Substance of some Discourse 
had between the Clerk of the Peace and myself, when he 
came to admonish me, according to the tenor of that Law by 
which I was in Prison. 

" When I had lain in prison other twelve weeks, not know- 
ing what they intended to do with me, the third of April, 1661, 
comes Mr. Cobb unto me, (as he told me) being sent by the 
justices to admonish me, and demand of me submittance to the 
Church of England &c. The extent of our discourse was as 
followeth. 

" Cobb. When he was come into the house he sent for me 
out of my chamber ; and when I was come unto him, he said. 
Neighbour Bunyan, how do you do ? 

" Bun. I thank you. Sir, said I, very well, blessed be the 
Lord. 

" Cobb. Saith he, I com3 to tell you, that it is desired, you 
would submit yourself to the laws of the land, or else at the 
next sessions it will go worse with you, even to be sent away 
out of the nation, or else woi'se than that. 

" Bun. I said, that I did desire to demean myself in the 
world, both as becometh a man and a Christian. 

"Cobb. But saith he, you must submit to the laws of the 
land, and leave off those meetings, which you was wont to 
have : for the statute law is directly against it ; and I am sent 
to you by the justices to tell you, that they do intend to prose- 
cute the law against you, if you submit not. 

" Bun. I said, Sir, I conceive that the law by which I am 
in prison at this time, doth not reach or condemn either me, 
or the meetings which I do frequent ; that law was made 



256 LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 

against those, that being designed to do evil in their meetings, 
make the exercise of rehgion their pretence to cover their 
wickedness. It doth not forbid the private meetings of those 
that plainly and simply make it their only end to worship the 
Lord, and to exhort one another to edification. My end in 
meeting with others is simply to do as much good as I can, by 
exhortation and counsel, according to that small measure of 
light which God hath given me, and not to disturb the peace 
of the nation. 

" Cobb. Every one may say the same, said he ; you see the 
late insurrection at London, under what glorious pretences 
they went, and yet indeed they intended no less than the ruin 
of the kingdom and commonwealth." 

(" Mr. Cobb," says Ivimey, " referred to the fifth monarchy 
men, a small number of enthusiasts. Their leader was 
Thomas Venner, a wine-cooper, who in his little conventicle, 
in Coleman-street, warmed his admirers with passionate ex- 
pectations of a fifth universal monarchy, under the personal 
reign of King Jesus upon earth, and that the saints were to 
take the kingdom themselves. To introduce this imaginary 
kingdom, they marched out of their meeting-house towards St. 
Paul's Churchyard, on Sunday, January 6, 1661, to the num. 
ber of about fifty men well armed, and with a resolution to 
subvert the present government, or die in the attempt. They 
published a declaration of the design of their rising, and placed 
sentinels at proper places. The Lord Mayor sent the Trained 
Bands to disperse them, whom they quickly routed, but in the 
evening retired to Cane Wood, between Highgate and Hamp- 
stead. On Wednesday morning they returned, and dispersed 
a party of the King's soldiers in Threadneedle-street. In 
Wood-street they repelled the Trained Bands, and some of the 
Horse-guards ; but Venner himself was knocked down, and 
some of his company slain ; from hence the remainder re- 
treated to Cripplegate, and took possession of a house, which 
they threatened to defend with a deperate resolution, but no- 
body appearing to countenance their frenzy, they surrendered 
after they had lost about half their number : Venner and one 
of his officers, w^re hanged before their meeting-house door in 
Coleman-street January 19 ; and a few days after, nine more 
were executed in divers parts of the city.") 

Bun. That practice of theirs I abhor, said I ; yet it doth 
not follow, tl at because they did so, therefore all others will do 
so. I look upon it as my duty to behave myself under the 



1 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 257 

king's government, both as becomes a man and a Christian, 
and if an occasion were offered me, I should willingly manifest 
my loyalty to my prince both by word and deed. 

" Cobb. Well, said he, I do not profess myself to be a man 
that can dispute ; but this I say truly, neighbour Bunyan, I 
would have you consider this matter seriously, and submit 
yourself; you may have your liberty to exhort your neighbour 
in private discourse, so be you do not call together an assembly 
of people ; and truly you may do much good to the church of 
Christ, if you would go this way ; and this you may do, and 
the law will not abridge you of it. It is your private meeting& 
that the law is against. 

" Bux. Sir, said I, if I may do good to one by my discourse,, 
why may I not do good to two ? And if to two, why not to 
four, and so to eight ? 

" Cobb. Ay, saith he, and to a hundred, I warrant you. 

«Bux. Yes, Sir, said I, I think I should not be forbid to do 
as much good as I can. 

" Cobb. But, saith he, you may but pretend to do good, and 
instead, notwithstanding, do harm, by seducing the people ; 
you are therefore denied your meeting so many together, lest 
you should do harm. 

" Bun. And yet, said I, you say the law tolerates me to dis- 
course with my neighbour ; surely there is no law tolerates me 
to seduce any one ; therefore if I may by the law discourse 
with one, surely it is to do him good ; and if I by discoursing 
may do good to one, surely by the same law, I may do good 
to many. 

" Cobb. The law, saith he, doth expressly forbid your pri- 
vate meetings, therefore, they are not to be tolcratfed. 

« Bu.v. I told him, that I would not entertain so much un- 
charitableness of that parliament m the 35th of Elizabeth, or 
of the Queen herself, as to think they did by that law intend 
the oppressing of any of God's ordinances, or the interrupting 
any in the way of God; but men may, in the wresting of it, 
turn it against the way of God ; but take the law in itself, 
and it only fio-hteth against those that drive at mischief in their 
hearts and meeting, making religion only their cloak, colour, 
or pretence ; for so are the words of the statute. 

" Cobb. Very good ; therefore the king seeing that pre- 
tences are usually in and among people, so as to make religion 
their pretence only ; therefore he, and the law before himt. 

3^* 



258 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

doth forbid such private meetings, and tolerates only public ; 
you may meet in public. 

'• Bun, Sir, said I, let me answer you in a similitude : set 
the case that, at such a Wood corner, there did usually come 
for^h thieves to do mischief, must there therefore a law be 
n ade, that every one that cometh out there shall be killed ? 
May not there come out from thence true men as well as 
thieves ? Just thus is it in this case ; I do think there may 
be man that may design the destruction of the common- 
wealth. But it doth not follow therefore that all private 
meetings are unlawful. Those that transgress, let them be 
punished. And if at any time I myself should do any act in 
my conversation as doth not become a man and Christian, let 
me bear the punishment. And as for your saying I may 
meet in public, if I may be suffered, I would gladly do it. Let 
me have but meeting enough in public, and I shall care the 
less to have them in private. I do not meet in private because 
I am afraid to have meetings in public. I bless the Lord that 
my heart is at that point, that if any man can lay any thing 
to my charge, either in doctrine or in practice, in this parti- 
cular, that can be proved error or heresy, I am willing to dis- 
own it, even in the very market-place. But if it be truth, 
then to stand to it to the last drop of my blood. And, Sir, 
said I, you ought to commend me for so doing. To err, and 
to be a heretic, are two things : I am no heretic, because I 
will not stand refractorily to defend any one thing that is 
contrary to the word : prove any thing which I hold, to be 
an error, and I will recant it. 

" Cobb. But goodman Bunyan, said he, methinks you need 
not stand so strictly upon this one thing, as to have meetings 
of such public assemblies. Cannot you submit, and, notwith- 
standing, do as much good as you can, in a neighbourly way, 
without having such meetings 1 

« Bun. Truly, Sir, said I, I do not desire to commend my- 
self, but to think meanly of myself : yet when I do most despise 
myself, I cannot help taking notice of that small measure of 
light which God hath given me, also that the people of the 
Lord (by their own saying) are edified thereby. Besides, 
when I see that the Lord, through grace, hath in some mea- 
sure blessed my labour, I dare not but exercise that gift which 
God hath given me, for the good of the people. And I said 
further, that I would willingly speak in public if I might. 

" Cobb. He said, that I might come to the pubhc assemblies 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 259 

and hear. What though you do not preach ? you may hear. 
Do not think yourself so well enlightened, and that you have 
received a gift so far above others, but that you may hear 
other men preach. Or to that purpose. 

" Bun. I told him, I was as willing to be taught as to give 
instruction, and I looked upon it as my duty to do both ; for, 
said I, a man that is a teacher, he himself may learn also from 
another that teacheth ; as the apostle saith, * We may all pro- 
phesy one by one, that all may learn.' That is, every man 
that hath received a gift from God, he may dispense it, that 
others may be comforted ; and when he hath done, he may hear, 
and learn, and be comforted himself of others. 

" Cobb. But, said he, what if you should forbear awhile, 
and sit still, till you see further how things will go ? 

" Bun. Sir, said I, Wycliffe saith, that he which leaveth off 
preaching and hearing of the word of God for fear of excom- 
munication of men, he is already excommunicated of God, 
and shall in the day of judgment be counted a traitor to 
Christ. 

" Cobb. Ay, saith he, they that do not hear shall be so 
counted indeed ; do you therefore hear. 

" Bun. But, Sir, said I, he saith, he that shall leave off either 
preaching or hearing, &;c. That is, if he hath received a gift 
for edification, it is his sin, if he doth not lay it out in a way 
of exhortation and counsel, according to the proportion of his 
gift ; as well as to spend his time altogether in hearing others 
preach. 

"Cobb. But, said he, how shall we know that you have re- 
ceived a gift ? 

" Bun. Said I, let any man hear, and search, and prove the 
doctrine by the Bible. 

" Cobb. But will you be willing, said he, that two indifferent 
persons shall determine the case, and will you stand by their 
judgment ? 

" Bun. I said, are they infallible ? 

" He said, no. 

" Bun. Then, said 1, it is possible my judgment may be as 
good as theirs. But yet I will pass by either, and in this 
matter be judged by the Scriptures; I am sure that is infalli- 
ble, and cannot err. 

"Cobb. But, said he, who shall be judge between you ? fdr 
you take the Scriptures one way, and they another. 

" Bun. I said, the Scripture should, and that by comparing 



260 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

one scripture with another ; for that will open itself if it be 
rightly compared. As for instance, if under the different ap- 
prehensions of the word mediator, (' He seems shrewdly to 
remind Mr. Cobb,' says Ivimey, * that as he had undertaken 
the office of a mediator between him and the justices, he should 
he faithful to both parties,') you would know the truth of it^ 
the Scriptures open it ; and tell us, that he that is a mediator,, 
must take up the business between two, and ' a mediator is not 
a mediator of one — but God is one, and there is one mediator 
between God and man, even the man Christ Jesus.' So like- 
wise the Scripture calleth Christ a complete, or perfect, or 
able high priest. That is opened in that he is called man and 
also God. His blood also is discovered to be effectually effi- 
cacious by the same things. So the Scripture, as touching 
the matter of meeting together, &c., doth likewise sufficiently 
open itself and discover its meaning. 

" Cobb. But are you willing, said he, to stand to the judg. 
ment of the cJiurch 1 

" Bux. Yes Sir, said I, to the approbation of the church of 
God, (the church's judgment is best expressed in Scripture.) 
We had much other discourse, which I cannot well remember, 
about the luws of the nation, and submission to governors ; 
after which I told him, that I did look upon myself as bound 
in conscience to walk according to all righteous laws, and that, 
whether there were a king or not ; and if I did any thing that 
was contrary, I did hold it my duty to bear patiently the pen- 
alty of the law, that was provided against such offenders ; 
with many more words to the like effect. And I said more- 
over, that to cut off all occasions of suspicion from any, as 
touching the harmlessness of my doctrines in private, I would 
willingly take the pains to give any one the notes of all my 
sermons. For I do sincerely desire to live quietly in my 
country, and to submit to the present authority^ 

" Cobb. Well, neighbour Bunyan, said he, but indeed I 
would wish vou seriously to consider of these things, between 
this and the quarter-sessions, and to submit yourself. You 
may do much good if you continue still in the land. But alas, 
what benefit will it be to your friends, or what good can you- 
do to them, if you should be sent away beyond the seas into 
SpAi?f or CoNSTA^'TiNOPLE, or some other remote part of the 
world ? Pray be ruled ! 

"Jail. Indeed, Sir, I hope he icill he ruled ! 

^*BxJN. I shall desire, said I, in all godliness and honesty ta 



i 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 261 

behave myself in the nation whilst I am in it. And if I must 
be so dealt withal, as you say, I hope God will help me to bear 
what they shall lay upon me. I know no evil that I have 
done in this matter, to be so used. 1 speak as in the presence 
of God. 

" Cobb. You know, saith he, that the Scripture saith, ' the 
powers that be, are ordained of God.' 

" Bun. I said yes, and that I was to submit to the king 
as supreme, and also to the governors, as to them who are sent 
by him. 

" Cobb. Well then, said he, ti^ king then commands you, 
that you should not have any private meetings ; because it is 
against his law, and he is ordained of God, therefore you 
should not have any. 

" BuxV. I told him, that Paul did own the powers that were 
in his day, to be of God ; and yet he was often in prison under 
them for all that. And also, though Jesus Christ told Pilate, 
that he had no power against him, but of God, yet he died 
under the same Pilate ; and yet, said I, I hope you will not 
say, that either Paul or Christ, were such as did deny magis- 
tracy, and so sinned against God in slighting the ordinance. 
Sir, said I, the law hath provided two ways of obeying : — The 
one to do that which I in my conscience do believe that I am 
bound to do, actively ; and where I cannot obey actively, there 
I am willing to lie down, and to suffer what they shall do unto 
me. At this he sat still and said no more ; which when he had 
done, I did thank him for his civil and meek discoursing with 
me ; and so we parted. 

" O that we might meet in Heaven ! " Bunyan exclaimed, 
as this negociation closed. They met first, however, in the 
Court, at the Bedford Assizes in 1662, and then Cobb meanly 
and malignantly deprived him of the opportunity of appearing 
before the Judge ; blotted his name from the Calendar, threat- 
ened his Jailer, and suborned the Court against him. Well 
might Bunyan say, " Mister Cobb did discover himself to be 
one of my greatest opposers." 

It was well for Bunyan that he knew Wycliffe's opinion. It 
had as much influence upon his manly resistance of unjust 
human Laws, as Luther's opinions had upon his evangelical 
treatment of the divine Law. It is thus that the watchwords 
of the Master-Spirits of one age, find out and unfold the inci- 
pient master-spirits of fu'ure ages, whenever a crisis comes. 
Wyclitfe and Luther, Bunyan and Baxter, Whitefield and 



262 LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 

Wesley, have not done half their work yet upon the world. 
Their " winged words," are but rising to the eagle-elevation, 
from which they will shoot down with eagle-power upon all 
ecclesiastical error, apathy, and inefficiency. Our old Re- 
formers, will reform us eventually, if their Books be allowed 
to live ! And, live they will, whatever die ! No man, in his 
senses, can imagine for a moment, that the mongrel theology 
of the Oxford Tract School, or the meagre theology of the 
Christian Knowledge Society, can ever supersede Barrow, or 
suppress Butler, or eclipse Newton, or neutralize Simeon. 
The world cannot be thrown hack thus, by monks, hermits, or 
hierophants. The four winds of heaven are too full of the 
winged seeds of both the first and the second Reformation 
(Protestantism and Methodism,) to allow the arable land of the 
nation to be sown again with the Tares of popery, priestcraft, 
or formalism. What is the weight of a Pusey, Hook, or Exe- 
ter, when thrown into the scale against Taylor and Tillotson ,' 
Baxter and Butler ; Bishop Hall and John Bunyan ? "Less 
than nothing and vanity!" Contrasts, which shock th& 
tmderstanding, and sharpen the wits, of thinking men I, 



: 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 263 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

bunyan's second wife. 

1661. 

The woman whom Sir Matthew Hale evidently respected, as 
well as pitied and advised, when she pleaded in open Court her 
husband's cause, deserves to share her husband's immortality. 
She would have deserved this, had there been no Hale to 
appreciate her. Well might Mr. St. John say of her, " It is 
abundantly manifest, that the wife of the humble preacher fell 
not short of an Arria or a Lady Russell in soul." He might 
have added, that Pliny had not a better comforter in his His- 
pulla, nor Cicero an abler advocate in his Terentia, than Bun- 
yan had in his Elizabeth. 

Mr. St. John has done himself great credit by saying of the 
second Mrs. Bunyan, that she was " worthy of the first." 
The first deserves this tribute, although she had neither the 
talents nor the spirit of the second : for her meek and quiet 
spirit made her as emphatically " a helpmate " for Bunyan 
whilst he was a prisoner in Doubting Castle, as Elizabeth was 
when he was a prisoner in Bedford Jail. It may be said of 
each of them with equal truth , " of this fine, high-minded 
Englishwoman, little, by far too little is known." 

I can hardly forgive Bunyan for saying so little about his 
first wife. He has not said much, indeed, about the second ; 
but then, he has allowed her to speak for herself; whereas, he 
has left only the works of the first " to praise her in the gate." 
Well ; her works are no mute memorial ! Perhaps Bunyan 
thought so, and therefore was silent[; for fine taste was one of the 
instincts of his genius. He showed this, by saying nothing 
of her death. That was most likely hastened by the calumny 
and threatnings, which assailed him so long and sharply. 
These " smayed^^ (dismayed,) at first, even the high spirit of 
his young wife ; and well nigh proved as fatal to herself as to 
her first-born. No wonder, therefore, if they brought the wife 
of his youth to a premature grave, after all the hard work, 



264 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

and harder watching, which she had gone through for many 
years. He did well, therefore, in saying nothing about her 
death, in his Narratives. He could only have traced it to the 
same cause, which perilled the life of Elizabeth ; and as this 
must have drawn down public odium, if not indignation, upon 
the ringleaders of his enemies, he remained silent, that they 
might be safe. Besides, Bunyan never brings forward any 
part of his domestic history, but when it is essential to explain 
leading points in his character or ministry ; and even then, 
the references are but slight ; for he is delicately modest, even 
when he is most egotistical ; and always more concerned for 
his public object, than for his private affairs. Accordmgly, 
he allows Elizabeth no second opportunity of displaying either 
her conjugal and maternal character, or her natural eloquence 
and noble spirit, after she has defended his ministerial rights 
before the Judges. Indeed, from that time she disappears al- 
together. It is delightful, however, to trace in the subsequent 
narrative, the high zest and complacency with which Bunyan 
records, what Mr. St. John well calls the " intrepid replies of 
his young wife, when pleading for his liberty, in language 
which the most Patrician lips might not have scorned, and 
which shook the resolution, or disturbed the equanimity, of 
more than one of the assembly." Bunyan says, " After I had 
received sentence of Banishment or Hanging from them, and 
after the former admonition, touching the determination of the 
justices, if I did not recant ; just when the time drew nigh, in 
which I should have abjured, or have done worse (as Mr. Cobb 
told me) came the time in which the king was to be crowned, 
April 23, 1661. Now at the coronation of kings, there is 
usually a releasement of divers prisoners by virtue of his 
coronation: in which privilege also I should have had my 
share ; but that they took me for a convicted person, and there- 
fore, unless I sued out a pardon, (as they called it,) I could 
have no benefit thereby, notwithstanding ; yet forasmuch as 
the coronation proclamation did give liberty from the day the 
king was crowned, to that day twelvemonth to sue it out ; 
therefore, though they would not let me out of prison, as they 
let out thousands, yet they could not meddle with me, as touch- 
ing the execution of their sentence ; because of the liberty of: 
fered for the suing out of pardons. Whereupon I continued 
in prison till the next assizes, which are called Midsummer 
Assizes, being then kept in August, 1661. 

« Now at that assizes, because I would not leave any possible 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 265 

means unattempted, that might be lawful ; I did, by my wife, 
present a petition to the judges three times, that I might be 
heard, and that they would impartially take my case into con- 
sideration. 

" The first time my wife went, she presented it to Judge 
Hale, who very mildly received it at her hand, telling her that 
he would do her and me the best good he could ; but he feared, 
he said he could do none. The next day again, lest they 
should through the multitude of business forget me, we did 
throw another petition into the coach to Judge Twisdon ; who, 
when he had seen it, snapt her up, and angrily told her that I 
was a convicted person, and could not be released, unless I 
would promise to preach no more, &c. 

" Well, after this, she yet again presented another to Judge 
Hale, as he sat on the bench, who, as it seemed, was willing to 
give her audience. Only Justice Chester being present, stept 
up and said, that I was convicted in the court, and that I was 
a hot-spirited fellow (or words to that purpose) whereat he 
waved it, and did not meddle therewith. But yet, my wife 
being encouraged by the high-sheriff, did venture once more 
into their presence (as the poor widow did before the unjust 
judge,) to try what she could do with them for my liberty, be- 
fore they went forth of the town. The place where she went 
to them, was to the Swan-chamber, where the two judges, and 
many justices and gentry of the country, were in company 
together. She then, coming into the chamber with abashed 
face, and trembling heart, began her errand to them in this 
manner. 

" Woman. My Lord, (directing herself to Judge Hale,) I 
make bold to come once again to your Lordship, to know what 
may be done with my husband. 

" Judge Hale. To whom he said. Woman, I told thee be- 
fore, I could do thee no good ; because they have taken that for 
a conviction which thy husband spoke at the sessions ; and 
unless there be something done to undo that, I can do thee no 
good. 

" WoM. My Lord, said she, he is kept unlawfully in prison ; 
they clapped him up before there were any proclamations 
against the meetings : the indictment also is false : besides, 
they never asked him whether he was guilty or no : neither 
did he confess the indictment. 

" One of the Justices. Then one of the Justices that 
23 



266 L I F E O F B U N Y A N. 

stood by, whom she knew not, said, My Lord, he was lawfully 
convicted. 

" WoM. It is false, said she, for when they said to him do 
you confess the indictment? He said only this, that he had 
been at several meetings, both where there were preaching the 
word, and prayer, and that they had God's presence among 
them. 

Judge Twisdon. Whereat Judge Twisdon answered very 
angrily, saying, What, you think we can do what we list 5 your 
husband is a breaker of the peace, and is convicted by the law, 
&c. Whereupon Judge Hale called for the statute book. 

" WoM. But, said she, my Lord, he was not lawfully con- 
victed. 

" Chester. Then Justice Chester said, my Lord, he was 
lawfully convicted. 

" WoM. It is false, said she ; it was but a word of dis- 
course that they took for a conviction (as you heard be- 
fore.) 

" Chest. But it is recorded. Woman, it is recorded, said 
Justice Chester. As if it must be of necessity true because it 
Vf^s recorded ! With which words he often endeavoured to 
stop her mouth, having no other argument to convince her, 
but ' it is recorded, it is recorded,' 

" WoM. My Lord, said she, I was a while since at London, 
to see if I could get my husband's liberty, and there I spoke 
with my Lord Barkwood, one of the House of Lords, to whom 
I delivered a petition, who took it of me and presented it to 
some of the rest of the House of Lords, for my husband's re- 
leasement ; who, when they had seen it, they said, that they 
could not release him, but committed his releasement to the 
JUDGES, at the next assizes. This he told me ; and now I am 
come to you to see if any thing may be done in this business, 
and you give neither relsasement nor relief! To which they 
gave her 710 answer, but made as if they heard her not. Only 
Justice Chester was often up with this, ' He is convicted,' and 
* it is recorded.' 

" WoM. If it be it is false, said she. 

" Chest. My Lord, said Justice Chester, he is a pestilent 
fellow ; there is not such a fellow in the country again. 

" Twis. What, will your husband leave preaching ? If he 
will do so, then send for him. 

" WoM. My Lord, said she, he dares not leave preaching, 
as long as he can speak. 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 267 

« Twis. See here, what should we talk any more about 
such a fellow ? Must he do what he lists 1 He is a breaker 
of the peace. 

" Wo3i. She told him again, that he desired to live peacea- 
bly, and to follow his calling, that his family might be main, 
tained ; and moreover, said she, my Lord, I have four small 
children, that cannot help themselves, one of which is blind, 
and we have nothing to live upon, but the charity of good peo- 
pie. 

"Hale. Hast thou four children? said Judge Hale; thou 
art but a young woman to have four children. 

" Wo3i. My Lord, said she, I am but mother-in-law to 
them, having not been married to him yet full two years. 
Indeed I was with child when my husband was first appre- 
hended : but being young, and unaccustomed to such things, 
said she, I being smayed at the news, fell into labour, and so 
continued for eight days, and then was delivered, but my 
child died. 

" Hale. Whereat, he looking very soberly on the matter, 
said, Alas, poor woman ! 

" Twis. But Judge Twisdon told her, that she made pover- 
ty her cloak ; and said, moreover, that he understood, I was 
maintained better by running up and down a preaching, than 
by following my calling. 

^' Hale. What is his calling ? said Judge Hale. 

" Answer. Then some of the company that stood by, said, 
A tinker, my Lord. 

" Wojvr. Yes, said she, and because he is a tinker, and a 
poor man, therefore he is despised, and cannot have justice. 

" Hale. Then Judge Hale answered, very mildly, saying, 
I tell thee, woman, seeing it is so, that they have taken what 
thy husband spake, for a conviction ; thou must either apply 
thyself to the King, or sue out his pardon, or get a writ of 
error. 

^' Chest. But when Justice Chester heard him give her this 
counsel ; and especially (as she supposed) because he spoke of 
a writ of error, he chafed, and seemed to be very much offend- 
ed ; saying, my Lord, he will preach and do what he lists. 

" WoM. He preacheth nothing but the word of God, said 
she. 

" Twis. He preach the word of God ! said Twisdon, (and 
withal, she thought he would have struck her,) he runneth up 
and down, and doth harm,. 



268 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

" WoM. No, my Lord, said she, it is not so, God hath owned 
him, and done much good by him. 

" Twis. God ! said he, his doctrine is the doctrine of the 
devil. 

WoM. My Lord, said she, when the righteous Judge shall 
appear, it will be known, that his doctrine is not the doctrine 
of the devil. 

" Twis. My Lord, said he, to Judge Hale, do not mind her, 
but send her away. 

" Hale. Then said Judge Hale, I am sorry, woman, that I 
can do thee no good ; thou must do one of those three things 
aforesaid, namely, either to apply thyself to the King, or sue 
out his pardon, or get a writ of error ; — but a writ of error 
will be cheapest. 

" WoM. At which Chester again seemed to be in a chafe, 
and put off his hat, and as she thought, scratched his head for 
anger. But when I saw, said she, that there was no prevail- 
ing to have my husband sent for, though I often desired them 
that they would send for him, that he might speak for himself, 
telling them, that he could give them better satisfaction than I 
could, in what they demanded of him ; with several other 
things, which now I forget ; only this I remember, that though 
I was somewhat timorous at my first entrance into the cham«. 
ber, yet before I went out, I could not but break forth into 
tears, not so much because they were so hard hearted against 
me, and my husband, but to think what a sad account such 
poor creatures will have to give at the coming of the Lord, 
when they shall there answer for all things whatsoever they 
have done in the body, whether it be good, or whether it be 
bad. 

" So when I departed from them, the book of statutes was 
brought, but what they said of it, I know nothing at all, neither 
did I hear any more from them." So Empona pleaded for 
her husband, Julius Sabinus, before Vespacian ; but although 
the Emperor wept like Hale, he decreed like Twisdon and 
Chester. 

Judge Hale appears here, as in every thing but the trial of 
Witches, to great advantage. Twisdon also appears what he 
was, — a reckless time-server. He had no pity for Bunyan, 
and no patience with Elizabeth ; but he afterwards acquitted 
Crowther, (a very Titus Gates, or Dangerfield, for getting up 
plots,) whom the poor mechanics of Manchester had denounced 
as a Trepanner, to the government. This occurred during 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 269 

the progress of the Lancashire Plot, when all means were 
tried to implicate Lord Delamere and Sir Richard Houghton 
in a conspiracy. 

There is a pamphlet on this subject, now very rare entitled, 
"The Grand Trepan Detected," 1667. It was written by 
Evan Price, a poor labourer, who was alternately tempted 
and punished by Sir R. Mosely, to give evidence against Lord 
Delamere and his suspected friends. Poor Evan had nothing 
to tell, although he was offered a thousand pounds, or one-tenth 
of the estates of all whom he might betray. He became an 
author, however, when he found that Twisdon acquitted, and 
the Goverment rewarded Crowther, the Trepanner. His 
Tract is preserved in the unique collection of the Baptist Col- 
lege in Bristol. Twisdon was also one of the Judges who sat 
on the trial of Lord Morly for murder, in 1666, when all the 
Judges of England, but Keyling, wore their scarlet robes, but 
forgot to bring their collars of S. S. — Sir J. B. Williams' Life 
of Hale, 



2.a* 



270 LIFEOFBUNYAN; 



CHAPTER XXV. 

BUNYAN AND THE PRAYER BOOK. 
1662. 

As Bunyan had been tried again for Nonconformity by Dr. 
Southey, and brought in guilty — of being at " that time, no 
preacher of good will, nor of Christian charity ;" and but " lit- 
tle reasonable or tolerant" toward the Prayer-Book, — it is 
necessary to examine the grounds of this conclusion. And, 
happily, the question. Why, and how far, he disliked the Prayer 
Book, can be answered without putting that Book upon its 
trial. I have no inclination to sit in judgment upon that ven- 
erable volume, as a whole. I have already said, that Bunyan 
was unduly prejudiced against it : for I neither question, nor 
wonder, that the Liturgy is found to be a Bethel Ladder, by 
which devotional minds can ascend from earth to heaven with 
angel-like alacrity, and weak minds are " mightily helped." 
Still the more true this is, the more criminal it was to enforce 
liturgical worship by the sword. Besides, Bunyan could both 
worship, and conduct worship well, without it. He felt no 
more need of it than Jacob did on Peniel, or the Apostles in 
Jerusalem. The Prayer Book would, I think, have been very 
useful to his village-flocks, when he could not meet them, if 
they had been allowed to use it just as they wanted it. But 
they were not. They were commanded to hear it at Church, 
whatever the Reader of it might be in creed or character. 
They must pray by it, even if he preached doctrines at vari- 
ance with both the letter of its Articles, and the spirit of its 
Confessions. Besides, submission to it involved submission to 
other things, which had none of its redeeming qualities to com- 
mend them. 

This, Bunyan would neither do nor teach : and if he was 
not right, the Toleration Act is wrong : for he did nothing 
then, but what every man may do lawfully now. The entire 
nation (with the exception of the Sovereign) are at perfect 
liberty to do all that John Bunyan did. Let it not be sup- 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 271 

posed, however, that he found no fault with extempore prayer 
because he rejected the Prayer Book. He both said and wrote 
as severe things against the faults of the former, as against 
the defects of the latter. " I think," he says, " that the prayer 
of the Pharisee in the temple was no stinted form, but a prayer 
extempore, made on a sudden, according to what he felt, thought, 
or understood of himself. We may therefore see that even 
prayer, as well other acts of religious worship, may be per- 
formed in great hypocrisy. I am not against extempore 
prayer ; for I believe it to be the best kind of praying : but yet 
I am jealous, that there be a great many such prayers made, 
especially in pulpits and meetings, without the breathing of the 
Holy Ghost."— WorA:*, p. 993. 

In the same spirit he says, (after exposing Trencher -Chap- 
lains,) others seek repute and applause for their eloquent terms. 
They eye only their auditory in their expressions. They look 
for returns — but it is for the windy applause of men. When 
their mouths are done going, their prayers are ended. They 
love not their chambers, but among company. — Works, p. 
2142. 

Bunyan did not conceal even his own deficiencies in prayer, 
when he wrote against forms. " Were I to tell j^ou my own 
experience," he says, " the difficulty (I feel at times) in pray- 
ing, would make you have strange thoughts of me. Oh, the 
starting. holes that the heart hath in the time of prayer ! None 
knows how many by-ways and back-lanes the heart hath to 
slip away from the presence of God. How much pride also, 
if enabled with expressions ! How much hypocrisy, if before 
others ! And how little conscience there is made of prayer in 
secret, unless the spirit of supplication be there to help !" — 
Works, p. 2134. 

Thus, if the church could not gag Bunyan, neither could 
the meeting. But was he unreasonable or intolerant, in thus 
exposing the faults of extempore prayer ? Would the Presby. 
terians of that day have been excusable, if they had persecuted 
him for these attacks upon their prayers ? Dr. Chalmers has 
surely as much right to complain as Dr. Southey. But he is 
silent. 

I know of nothing Bunyan has said against forms, severer 
than what I have quoted against parade and heartlessness 
without them. In his "Instructions to the Ignorant," a work 
widely circulated then, he says nothing against the Prayer 
Book, but much against prayerlessness. Even in his Treatise 



272 LIFEOFBUNYAN.^ 

on Prayer— the first work he wrote in prison, whilst smarting 
for his nonconformity — he repeats what he said to his judges, 
that he would have no one hindered from using the Common 
Prayer. 

He did, however, " exhort the people of God to take heed 
that they touched not the Common Prayer." This was in bad 
taste, certainly. It was not, however, such disobedience to 
the laws, as it seems at first sight : for the advice was given, 
not to the people of the realm, but to " the people of God :" — . 
in other words, to Bunyan's own people, and to those who 
thought with him. He did not intrude himself, nor his ad- 
vice, upon Episcopalian congregations or families ; and he 
was too poor to distribute his Treatise on Prayer amongst 
them. The question, therefore, comes to this — had he a right 
to call upon the people of his own communion to abide by 
their own principles ? The laws said, no, then. They say, 
yes, now. Well ; if the latter be the true answer, our Legis- 
lature have to thank John Bunyan for enabling them to abro- 
gate unjust laws. He did, single-handed, what the joint wis-- 
dom of successive Parliaments has well nigh perfected — fling 
Stuart-law to the winds. 

Besides, it was not so much what is in the Prayer Book, as 
what the promiscuous use of it led to, that Bunyan condemned. 
It was the very excellence of certain forms, that made him 
denounce the formal use of them. He says, indeed, that there 
are " absurdities " in the book : but he singles out no petition 
nor confession of it for reprehension. (How could he ?) It 
was not the Lord's Prayer itself he objected to ; but the laws 
which " compelled every whoremonger, drunkard, and swearer, 
to say to God, • Our Father which art in heaven.'" "Must 
all the rabble in the world," he asks, " be made to say, ' Our 
Father,' because the saints are commanded to say so ? " In 
the same spirit, he contends, that it was blasphemy to " compel 
men to say so, who were cursing and persecuting the children 
of God." They may be bold men, but they are not wise men, 
who differ from Bunyan in this matter. It was no opinion of 
his, however, that only the pious should pray. In answer to 
the question — "Would you have none pray but those that know 
they are disciples of Christ ? " — he says, " Let every soul that 
would be saved pour out itself to God, though it cannot con- 
clude itself a child of God. Prayer is one of the first things 
that discover a man to be a Christian." — Works, p. 2140. 
Bunyan's chief objection to the Prayer Book was, that it 



LIPEOFBUNYAN. 273 

was both " exalted above the spirit of prayer," and employed 
to •■' quench that spirit ;" inasmuch as all other prayers were 
prohibited then, in church. This " muzzling up to a form," 
he denounced, without ceremony or circumlocution. It was 
not, however, until that form was set in open rivalry to the 
spirit of supplication, and the prisons were filled with prayerful 
men, and the ale-houses ringing with jibes and curses on all 
who prayed " without book," that he called it a " cursed super- 
stition." And this name, although not at all deserved by it, 
was richly deserved by the purpose for which it was employed 
against the Nonconformists — when they, however peaceable 
and exemplary, were treated as factious, seditious, and hereti- 
cal, because they would not bow the knee by it. I am no 
apologist for Bunyan's severe invectives. I have no sympa- 
thy with him, when he says, that the Prayer Book is a work 
of "scraps and fragments, devised by Popes and Friars :" but 
were it again bristled with instruments of cruelty, and enact- 
ed to prevent free prayer in the pulpit, I would say, that a 
great blessing was turned into a heavy curse ; and tens of 
thousands, not Dissenters, would say the same. Why ; we 
should never have had the Liturgy we possess, had not its au- 
thors been at liberty to pray as the Holy Spirit helped their 
infirmities. It was, therefore, a poor compliment, and a base 
return, to its devotional authors, to " muzzle up" to their forms, 
equally devotional men. The Bunyans and Baxters of these 
times were as mighty in prayer as any of the Greek or Latin 
Fathers. There are also in Jeremy Taylor's Life of Christ, 
and in Milton's Prose Works, prayers equal to any uninspired 
forms in existence. 

It ought not to be utterly useless, nor at all offensive, to glance 
thus at the question of forms, in connexion with Bunyan. No 
Dissenter would speak of the Prayer Book now — so far as it is 
a book of prayers — as Bunyan did : and no Churchman would 
wish it to be such a Shibboleth as Clarendon and Sheldon made 
it. Might not both parties try, therefore, how kindly they 
could think and speak of their respective modes of worship ? 
Dissenters have not the provocation to rail or reason against 
the Liturgy, which Bunyan had ; and Churchmen have not 
the power to bring free prayer into disrepute. Besides, it is 
impossible to make either mode supplant the other, now that 
the adherents of each are so equally balanced, and the admirers 
of each so competent txD judge for themselves. Surely, there- 
fore, it is high time for Nonconformists to allow that a minis- 



274 LIFE OP RUNYAN. 

ter, who has but slender gifts in prayer, would do well to enrich 
his worship from the Liturgy ; and for Conformists to admit 
that a clergyman, who cannot pray at all without a form, is 
unfit to minister at the altar of God, except when the inability 
is nervous. Such concessions might be safely and honourably 
made on both sides ; and the devotional character of the min- 
istry at large would be improved by them. 

It is not meant by these remarks, to commend, or approve 
the adoption of the Liturgy, by Dissenting Congregations. 
This cannot be done now with honour. It was done with per- 
fect honour, during the last century ; but now it is called a 
trick to catch Churchmen. There seems some truth in this ; 
for, of late, such experiments have failed. They deserved to 
fail, if their object was to entrap the unwary ; and especially, 
when they have opposed an evangelical clergyman. The 
Rector of the principal town in the Kingdom said to me — " It 
is mean to oppose our Church by her own prayers." I quite 
agree with him, as to all towns and parishes where the Gospel 
is preached. Wherever it is not preached, any means are 
legitimate, which can fairly introduce it ! 



LIFEOFBUNYAN, 27^ 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

bunyan's favourite sermon. 

Having seen the opinion of Lindale, Foster, Cobb, and the 
Judges, concerning the character and tendency of Bunyan's 
preaching, a characteristic specimen of it will enable us to 
judge for ourselves how far it was likely to injure the Church 
or the State. The following extracts are from his favourite 
Sermon, on the words, " Beginning at Jerusalem." I call it 
his favourite, because he says he preached it often, and but 
seldom without success. It is only common-place at first; 
but it soon breathes and burns with all the energy and ingenu- 
ity of the author. 

" The Apostles, although they had a commission so large as 
to warrant them to go and preach the Gospel in all the world, 
were to begin this work at Jerusalem. I must touch upon two 
things. 1. What Jerusalem now was. 2. What it was to 
preach the Gospel to them. 

"1. As to her descent, Jerusalem was from Abraham and 
the sons of Jacob, a people that God singled out from the rest 
of the nations, to set his love upon them. 

" 2. As to her preference of exaltation, she was the place of 
God's worship, and had in and with her the special tokens and 
signs of God's favour and presence, above any other people 
in the world. 

" 3. As to her decays, she was now greatly backslidden, 
and become the place where Truth was much defaced. Jeru- 
salem was now become the very sink of sin, and seat of hypo- 
crisy, and gulf where true religion was drowned. In a word, 
she was now the shambles and slauo-hter-house of the saints. 
Yea, Christ, their Lord and Maker, could not escape (that 
people.) They rested not until they had driven Him out of 
the world, and they would have extinguished His name if they 
could, that men might not count him the Saviour of the 
v/orld. 

" This is the city, and these are people ; — this is their char- 



276 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

acter, and these are their sins ! Nor can there be produced 
their parallel in all this world. Infinite was their wickedness, 
if you join to the matter of fact, the Light they sinned against, 
and the Patience they abused. 

" And now we come to the clause, ' Beginning at Jerusa- 
lem : ' that is, Christ would have Jerusalem get the first offer 
of the Gospel. 

" 1. This cannot be so commanded, because they had any 
right of themselves : for their sins had divested them of all 
self-deservings. 

" 2. Nor yet, because they stood upon the advance ground 
with the worst sinners of the Nations. Jerusalem was worse 
than the very nations that God cast out before the Israelites. 
2 Chron. 33. 

" 3. It must, therefore, follow, that the clause ' Begin at 
Jerusalem,' was put into this commission, out of mere grace 
and compassion ; even from the overflowings of rich Mercy. 

" From these words thus explained, , we gain this Observa- 
tion, — that Jesus Christ would have mercy offered in the first 
place to the biggest sinners. Preach repentance and remis- 
sion of sins to the Jerusalem sinners first. 

" One would a-thought, since they were the worst and 
greatest sinners, and those who had not only despised the per- 
son, doctrine, and miracles of Christ, but also had had their 
hands up to the elbows in His heart's blood, that He would 
have said, ' Go into all the world, and preach repentance and 
remission ; and after that, offer the same to Jerusalem.' Yea, 
it had been infinite grace — if he had said so ! 

" This was not the first time Jesus showed a desire that the 
worst of these worst should first come to him. Matt. xxi. 31 ; 
X. 5, 6 ; xxiii. 37. These, therefore, had the cream of the 
gospel, who had the first offer in His life-time. 

" The apostles did not overloook this clause, when their Lord 
was gone into heaven. They went first to Jersusalem, and 
abode there for a season, preaching Christ's gospel to nobody 
else. And their first sermon was to the worst of the Jerusalem 
sinners ; even to the murderers of Jesus Christ. Peter said to 
them — without the least stick, or stop, or pause of spirit, as to 
whether he had best say so or not — ' Repent and be baptized 
every one of you. I shut out never a one of you : for I am 
commanded by my Lord to deal with you one by one, by the 
word of his salvation. Repent every one of you, for the re- 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 277 

mission of sins ; and you shall, every one of you, receive the 
gift of the Holy Ghost.'" 

Bunyan now supposes some of Peter's hearers unable to 
credit this in their own case, at once. 

" 1. Objector. But I was one of those that plotted to take 
away his life. May I be saved by him ? 

" Peter. Every one of you ! 

" 2. Objector. But I was one of them that h<ive false wit- 
ness against him. Is there grace for me ? 

" Peter. For every one of you ! 

" 3. Bat I was one of them that cried out, ' Crucify, crucify 
Him,' and that desired Barabbas the murderer might live. 
What will become of me, think you ? 

" Peter. I am to preach remission of sins to every one of 
you ! 

" 4. Objector. But I was one of them that did spit in his 
face, when he stood before his accusers, and one that mocked 
him when in anguish he hung bleeding on the tree ! Is there 
room for me ? 

" Peter. For every one of you ! 

" 5. Objector. But I was one of them that in his extremity 
said, ' Give him gall and vinegar to drink.' Why may I not 
expect the same, when anguish and guilt are upon me 1 

" Peter. Repent of these wickednesses ; and here is remis- 
sion of sins for every one of you ! 

" 6. Objector. But I railed on him — reviled him — hated 
him — and rejoiced to see him mocked at by others. Can there 
be hope for me ? 

" Peter. There is for every one of you ! " 

Bunyan then asks, " Did not Peter, think ye, see a great 
deal in this clause of the commission — that he should thus offer, 
so particularly, this grace to each particular man ? But this 
is not all ! These Jerusalem sinners must have this offer 
again and again ; every one of them must be offered grace 
over and over. Christ would not take ihGir first rejection for 
a denial, nor their second repulse for a denial. Clirist will not 
be put off thus : but will have grace offered once, twice, thrice, 
to them. What a pitch of grace is this ! Christ was minded 
to amaze the world. 

" Peter, too, to draw them the better under the net of the 
gospel, put himself, like a heavenly decoy (bird) among them, 
saying, ' There is none other name whereby we must be saved.' 

" Thus, you see, I have proved the doctrine. I shall now 
24 



2T8 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

proceed to show you the reasons of the point, and then mako 
some apphcation. The reasons of the point are,, 

" 1. Because the biggest sinners have most need of mercy. 
Reason says, ' He that has most need should be helped first :' 
1 inean — when a helping hand is offered ; and God sent the 
Gospel to help the world. Now suppose, that as thou art walk- 
ing at some pond side, thou shouldst espy in it four or five 
children in danger of drowning, and one in more danger than 
all the rest : — Judge which has most need to be helped out 
first. I know thou wilt say, ' he that is nearest drowning.' 
Why, this is the case here : the bigger sinner, the nearer 
drowning. The Publicans were in the very mouth of Death. 
Death was a-swallowing them down ; and therefore the Lord 
Jesus offered them mercy first. He sat very loose to the (self) 
righteous, but stuck close to sinners, in calling men to repent- 
ance. 

" 2. Because when any of the biggest sinners receive offer- 
ed mercy, it redounds most to the fame of Christ. He has 
put himself under the term. Physician ; a doctor for curing all 
diseases. Now it is not by picking out thistles, nor by laying 
plaisters to the scratch of a pin, that doctors get to themselves 
a name at first. Every old woman can do this. But if they 
would have a name and a fame, and have it quickly, they must 
do some great and desperate cures. So Christ commands 
mercy to be proffered to the biggest sinners first, because by 
saving one of them, he makes all men marvel. He has also 
published his blessed Bills, (the Holy Scriptures,) with the 
very names of the persons upon whom his great cures were 
wrought. Here is one item : — ' Such a one made a monument 
of everlasting life, by my grace and redeeming blood. And 
such a one became an heir of glory by my perfect obedience. 
Item — I saved Peter, Magdalen, and many others.' Indeed, 
there is but very little said in God's Book, about the salvation 
of little sinners, because that would not answer the design (of 
the book) to bring glory to the name of the Son of God. Christ 
could have laid hold of an honester man (on Calvary) : but he 
laid hold on a thief first, and took him away with him to glory. 
Nor can this one act of his be ever buried. It will be talked 
of till the end of the world, to his praise. ' Men shall abun- 
dantly utter the memory of this great goodness, to make known 
to the sons of men his mighty acts, and the glorious majesty 
of his kingdom.' Psal. cxlv. 10. 

" 3. Because others, on hearing mercy offered to the biggest 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 279 

sinners first, will be encouraged the more to come to Christ 
for Hfe. He saved the thief, to encourage thieves to come to 
Him for mercy ; Magdalen, to encourage Magdalenes to come 
to Him for mercy ; Saul, to encourage Sauls to come to Him for 
mercy : for mercy is the only antidote against sinning. It will 
loose the heart that is frozen in sin. Yea, it will make the 
unwilling, willing to come to Him for life. 

"4. Because by showing mercy to the worst first, Christ 
most weakens the kingdom of Satan. The biggest sinners are 
Satan's colonels and captains, that most stoutly make head 
against the Son of God. When Ishbosheth lost Abner, he did 
but sit on a tottering throne. So when Satan loseth his strong 
men, his kingdom is weak. Samson, when he would pull 
down the Philistines' temple, too khold of the two main pillars 
of it'; and breaking them, down came the house. So Christ 
came to destroy the works of the devil by converting grace, as 
well as by redeeming blood. It was by casting him out of 
strong possessions, and by recovering notorious sinners out of 
his clutches, that Christ saw him fall like lightning from hea- 
ven. Why, some people are the devil's sin-hreeders. Now, 
let the Lord Jesus cleanse first some of these sin-breeders,"and 
there will be a nip given to those swarms of sins, in the town, 
house, or family. I speak from experience. I was one of 
those great sin-breeders. I infected all the youth of the town 
where I was born, with all manner of youthful vanities. The 
neighbours counted me so : my practice proved me so. Where- 
fore Jesus Christ, by taking me first, much allayed the contagion 
of sin all the town over. But what need to give you an instance 
of poor I ? — come to Manasseh. So long as he was a ring, 
leading sinner — the great idolater — the chief of devilism, the 
whole land flowed with wickedness. But when God converted 
him, the whole land was reformed. Down went the groves, 
the idols, and altars of Baal — and up went true religion in its 
power and purity. 

" 5. Because the biggest sinners, when converted, are usually 
the best helps in the Church against temptation, and fittest to 
support the feeble minded. Hence, usually, you have some 
such (converts) in the, first plantation of churches, or quickly 
upon it. Churches would do but sorrily, if Jesus Christ did 
not put among them such monuments and mirrors of mercy. 
The very sight of such a sinner in God's house, yea, the very 
thovght of him, where a sight cannot be obtained, is ofttimes 
greatly for the help of the faith of the feeble* < When the 



280 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

Churches/ saith Paul, ' heard concerning me, that he who per- 
secuted them in time past, now preached the faith he once de- 
stroyed, they glorified God in me.' Gal. i. 20. 

" There are two things that great sinners are acquainted 
with, which, when they come to divulge them, are a great re- 
lief to the faith of the saints : 

" The contests they usually have with the devil at their part- 
ing with him, and their knowledge of his secrets. Satan is 
loath to part with a great sinner. ' What,' quoth he, ' my old 
servant forsake me now ! Thou horrible wretch — dost not 
know that thou hast sinned thyself beyond the reach of mercy ? 
Dost thou think that Christ will foul his fingers with thee 1 It 
is enough to make angels blush, to see so vile a one knocking 
at heaven's gate ; and wilt thou be so abominably bold as to 
doit?' < Thus Satan dealt with me,' says the great sinner, 
' when at first he came to Christ.' * And what did you reply ?' 
saith the tempted. ' Why, I granted the whole charge to be 
true,' saith the other. ' And what did you do ? — Despair, or 
not V ' No.' Thus as I told you, such a one is a continual 
spectacle in the Church, for every one to wonder and behold 
God's grace by. The angels came down to behold this sight, 
and rejoice to see a hit of dust and ashes overcome principali- 
ties and powers of darkness. 

" 6. Because such sinners when converted are apt to love 
Christ most. This agrees with both scripture and reason. 
' To whom much is forgiven, the same loveth much.' Luke 
vii. 47, And Reason says, it would be the unreasonablest 
thing in the world to render hatred for love. * I laboured 
more for Christ than them all,' says Paul, But Paul, what 
moved thee thus to do ? ' The love of Christ,' saith he. HeH 
doth know I was a sinner of the greatest size ; Heaven doth 
know it ; the world doth know it ! But I obtained mercy. I 
am under the force of Love, strong as death. Can the waters 
quench it, or the floods drown it ? Hence this is my continu- 
al cry, ' What shall I render unto the Lord for all his benefits V 
Ay, Paul, this is something. Thou speakest like a man 
affected and carried away by the love and grace of God. 
Christ might have converted twenty little sinners, and yet not 
found in them all so much love for grace bestowed. I wonder 
how far a man might go among converted sinners of a smaller 
size, before he could find one that so much as looks any thing like 
this ! Excepting only some kw, you may walk to the world's 
end, and find none. Jesus Christ, therefore, knows what he 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 281 

does, when he lays hold on the hearts of sinners of the biggest 
size. He, alas, gets but little thanks for saving little sinners. 
He gets not water for his feet, from them. There are many 
dry-eyed Christians in the world, and abundance of dry- 
eyed duties : duties never wetted by the tears of repentance, 
nor sweetened with the ointment of the alabaster-box. 

" 7. Christ would save the worst first, because Grace when 
it is received by them shines in them. Like dry wood, or 
great candles, they burn best, and shine with the brightest 
light. I lay this down, to show that Christ has a delight to see 
grace shine. It was of idolatrous Ephraim, and backsliding 
Judah, that it was said, ' The Lord their God shall save them 
as the flock of his people ; for they shall be as the stones of 
a Crown lift up as an ensign in the land.' Zech. ix. 16. 

" 8. Because by that means, the Impenitent will be left 
without excuse at the day of judgment. God's sword hath two 
edges : it can cut back-stroke and fore-stroke. If it do thee 
no good, it will do thee hurt. It is the savour of life unto life, 
or the savour of death unto death. The condemned will not 
have to say, ' Thou wast only for saving little sinners, there- 
fore I died in despair.' There will be millions of souls to rise 
up at the Judgment-seat, to confute that plea. Alas, alas, 
what will those sinners do that through Uxbelief, eclipsed the 
glorious largeness of the mercy of God, and gave way to de- 
spair of salvation because of the bigness of their sins ? What 
will cut like this? — 'AH in Heaven jir saved by faith, and I 
am damned by unbelief! Wretch that I am, why did I not 
give glory to the redeeming blood of Jesus ? Why did I not 
humbly cast my soul at His feet for mercy ? Why did I judse 
of His ability to save me, by the voice of my shallow reason V 
This will tear the Impenitent, — that they missed mercy and 
glory, and obtained everlasting condemnation through their 
unbelief. They were damned for forsaking what they had a 
sort oi' property in, — for forsaking their 'own mercies !' 

" Thus much for the Reasons. I conclude with a word of 
Application, All this shows us how to make a right judgment 
of the heaj't of Christ ; and also of the heart of Him who sent 
him. There is nothing more common, to men that are awake 
in their souls, than wrong thoughts of God, which pinch and 
pen up his mercy to scanty and beggarly conclusions and rigid 
legal conditions ; supposing it a rude intrenching upon his 
Majesty to come ourselves, or to invite others, until we have 
scraped, and rubbed, and washed ourselves somewhat orderly 
24* 



282 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

and handsome in His sight. Such never knew what * Begin 
at Jerusalem,' meant. Such in their heart, compare the Fa- 
ther and the Son to niggardly rich men, whose money comes 
from them like drops of blood. Judge, then, the sufficiency of 
the merits of Christ. It is not a little that will save great sin- 
ners. It is upon the square, of the worthiness of the blood of 
Christ, that Grace acts in pardoning. 

" Wherefore, Sinner, be ruled by me in this matter : feign 
not thyself another man, if thou hast been a vile sinner. Go 
in thy own colours to Jesus Christ. Put thyself amongst the 
most vile, and let Him alone to put thee among the children. 
Thou art as it were called by name to come in for mercy. 
Thou man of Jerusalem hearken to thy call ! Men in courts 
of Judicature do so, and shoulder through the crowd, saying, 
*Pray give way, I am called into the court.' Why then 
standest thou still ? ' Begin at Jerusalem,' is thy call and au- 
thority to come. Wherefore, up Man, and shoulder it ! Say, 
' Stand aside Devil, Christ calls me ! Stand away Unbelief, 
Christ calls me ! Stand away all my discouraging apprehen- 
sions, for my Saviour calls me to him to receive mercy !' Men 
will do thus in courts below. Why not thus approach the 
Court above? Christ, as he sits on the Throne of Grace, 
pointeth over the heads of thousands,, directly to such a man, 
and says. Come. Wherefore, since He says. Come, — let the 
Angels make a lane, and all men make room, that the Jerusa- 
lem sinner may come to Christ for mercy !" Thus Bunyan 
preached Grace. To Law also, he did equal justice, as we 
shall see in his Moral Philosophy. 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 283 



CHAPTER XXVIL 

THUNDERBOLTS. 

So much of Bunyan's ministerial life was spent in prison and 
he is so much a Barnabas in the Works which are well known 
to the public, that he is seldom thought of as a Boanerges. 
He was, however, " a son of thunder," at his outset in the 
ministry ; and, to the last,^ often shook and enshrined this world 
with the thunders and lightnings of the next world. This part 
of his work he fulfilled with what he calls, " great sense ;" 
meaning a deep sense of the solemnity of eternal things. One 
who knew him well, and who wrote an elegy on his death, 
says of him, 

" When for conviction on the Law he fell, 
You'd think you heard the Damned's groans in hell j 
And then, almost at every word he spake, 
Men's lips would quiver, and their hearts would ache !" 

Works, p. 1476. 

He himself also sang the power of his awful appeals, when he 
reviewed it in prison. 

" And now those very hearts that then, 
Were foes unto the Lord, 
Embrace his Christ and Truth, like men, 
Conquered by His sword. 
I hear tltem sigh, and groan, and cry 
For grace, to God above ; 
They loathe their sin, and to it die : 
'T is Holiness they love." 

Prison Thoughts. 

No wonder he said indignantly, of his persecutors, when they 
stopped his preaching, 

" This was the work I was about 
When hands on me were laid ; 
'T was this from which they plucked me out, 
And vilely to me said. 



284 ' LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

You Heretic, Deceiver, come, 

To prison you must go ! 

You preach abroad, and keep not home ; 

You are the Church's foe." 

Prison Thoughts. 

Warning men to flee from the wrath to come, was not com- 
mon in the Restoration church then. It warned them more 
againt the Conventicle, than against Hell. This was one 
reason why Bunyan wielded " the terrors of the Lord " so 
frequently in his preaching. He made the Priests as well as 
the people tremble, along the whole line of his Itineracies : for 
it was no uncommon thing with him to ask publicly, from 
town to town, and from village to village, — " How many poor 
souls hath Bonner to answer for, think you ? How many souls 
have blind Priests been the means of destroying, by preach- 
ing thus for filthy lucre's sake, what was no better for the soul 
than rats-bane for the body ? Many of them, it is to be feared, 
will have whole Towns to answer for — yea, whole Cities to 
answer for ! Ah, friend, I tell thee, thou hast taken in hand 
to preach — thou knowest not what. Will it not grieve thee 
to see thy whole Parish come bellowing after thee to Hell, 
crying out, — ' This we may thank thee for ! Thou wast 
afraid to tell us of our sins, lest we should not put meat enough 
into thy mouth. O, cursed wretch, that ever thou shouldst be- 
guile us thus, — deceive us thus, — flatter us thus ! We would 
have gone out to hear the word abroad, but that thou didst 
reprove us, and tell us that (such preaching) was deceivable 
doctrine. Blind guide that thou wert, thou wast not contented 
to fall into the ditch thyself, but hast led us thither with thee !' 
Look to thyself, I say, lest (like Dives) thou cry when it is too 
late, ' Send Lazarus to my congregation, whom I beguiled 
through my folly. Send him to the town where I preached 
last, lest I be the cause of their damnation. O send him — and 
let him tell them, and testify unto them, lest they also come to 
this place of torment.' " — Works, p. 2060. 

This was one of the thunder-claps which Bunyan made to 
peal round all the district between Cambridge and Oxford. 
Who then can wonder, that time-serving Priests both dreaded 
and hated him ? Such an attack would madden such Priests 
still, whether out of the Church or in it. And there are such 
Priests both in it, and out of it ! Can it be literally true, that 
WiLBERFORCE adviscd a friend of his to keep to the Church, 
although the Gospel was not preached by the Clergymen ; as 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 285 

a safer measure than keeping to the Gospel in a Chapel ? That 
the Puseyite and Melville school should thus outrage common 
sense and Christian decency, is not surprising: but that Wil- 
berforce preferred the Church to the Gospel is incredible ! 

It was not against worldly priestsonly, that Bunyan launch, 
ed his thunderbolts. He spared no impeder of the Gospel. 
Landlords as well as church-lords threw hinderances in the 
way of Bunyan, and of such Evangelists ; and he arraigned 
them with equal publicity and point. " O, what red-lines,''^ 
he exclaims, "there will be against those rich ungodly land- 
lords, who so kept under their poor tenants, that they dare not 
go out to hear the word for fear their rent should be raised, 
or they turned out of their houses. What sayest thou, Land- 
lord ; will it not cut thy soul, when thou shalt see that thou 
could not be content to miss of Heaven thyself, but thou must 
labour to hinder others also 1 Will it not give thee an eternal 
wound in thy heart, both at death and judgment, to be accused 
of the ruin of thy neighbour's soul — thy servant's soul — thy 
wife's soul, together with the ruin of thine own 1 Think on 
this — ye drunken, proud, rich and scornful Landlords ! Think 
on this — mad-brained and blasphemous Husbands, if ye would 
not cry, if ye would not howl, if you would not bear the bur- 
den of the ruin of others for ever !' 

Bunyan did not spare Tenants, Servants, nor Wives, when 
he remonstrated thus with their Masters. He ministered as 
little to the passions of the moh, as to the pride of the Hierar- 
chy, or the tyranny of Squirearchy. "Many stand in so much 
dread of men, and do so highly esteem their favour," he says, 
" that they will rather venture their souls in the hands of the 
devil, with their favour, than fly to Jesus Christ (without it.) 
Nay, though they be convinced that the way is God's way, 
yet they turn their ears from the truth ; and all, because they 
will not lose the favour of an opposite neighbour. ' O, I dare 
not, for master — my Landlord. I shall lose his favour ; his 
house of work; and so decay my calling.' 'O,' saith ano- 
ther, ' I would willingly go the right way, but for my Father : 
he chides, and tells me he will not stand my friend when I 
come to want ; I shall never enjoy a pennyM'orth of his goods ; 
— rhe will disinherit me.' « And I dare not for my husband ; 
for he will be a-railing, and tell me he will beat me, and turn 
me out of doors, or cut off my legs.' But I tell you — if any 
of these things, or any other things, keep thee from seeking 
Christ iu his ways, they will make him cut off thy soul, be- 



286 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

cause thou didst trust man rather than God. Thou shalt be 
tormented as many years as there are stars in the firmament, 
or sands on the sea-shore ; and besides all this, thou must 
abide it for ever !" — Works, p. 2076. 

Bunyan's appeals to Transgressors are often as original as 
they are terrific. " Consider thus with thyself: would I have 
all — every one of my sins, — to come in against me, to inflame 
the justice of God against me ? Would I like to be bound 
up in them, as the Three Children in their clothes, and then 
east as really into the fiery furnace of the wrath of Almighty 
God, as they were into Nebuchadnezzar's fiery furnace ? 
Would I like to have all and every one of the Ten Command- 
ments discharge themselves against my soul ; the first say- 
ing, ' damn him ;' the second, ' damn him ; for he hath broken 
me.' This would be more terrible than if thou shouldst have ten 
of the biggest pieces of Ordinance in England thunder — thunder 
— thunder against thy body, one after another. This would 
not be comparable to the reports that the Law will give against 
thy soul for ever. Mark ; it is for ever, for ever ! All thy 
sins will be clapt on thy Conscience at one time, as if one 
should clap a red-hot iron to thy breast, to continue there to 
all eternity."— P. 2040, 65. 

Some of Bunyan's poetry on this subject rises to an awful 
sublimity, which even his rhyme cannot spoil. Speaking of 
the Lost he says, 

" So that whatever they do know, 
Or see, or think, or feel, 
'For ever,^ still doth strike them through, 
As with a bar of steel ! 
For ever shineth in the fire, 
* Ever, is on the Chains ; 
'T is also in the pit of Ire, 
And tastes in all their pains ! 
O, Ever, Ever, this will drown 
Them quite, and make them cry, 
' We never shall get o'er thy bound, 
Thou GREAT Eternity !' 
Yea, when they have, time out of mind, 
Been in this case so ill, 
For ever Ever, is behind, 
Yet for them to fulfil." 

One Thing Jfeedful, fol. ed. 2 vol. p. 849. 

False maxims, however popular, could neither dupe nor si- 
lence Bunyan. He denounced, wherever he went, the favour- 
ite phrase " dying like a lamb," whenever it was applied to the 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 287 

death of ungodly or inconsistent men. " A sinful life with a 
quiet death annexed to it, is," he says, " the ready, the open, 
the common highway to Hell. There is no surer sign of dam- 
nation, than for a man to die quietly after a sinful life. I do 
not say that all wicked men, who die molested at their death 
with a sense of sin and fears of hell, do, therefore, go to 
Heaven. Some are made to see ; not converted by seeing ; 
and left to despair, that they may go roaring out of this world 
to their 'own place.' But I do say, there is no surer sign of 
a man's damnation than to die with his eyes shut, or with a 
heart that cannot repent. I have seen a dog or a sheep die 
hardly. Thus may wicked men. But they may die like a 
chrisom-child in show, and yet plunge down among the flames. 
This child-like, lamb-like death, makes some think that all is 
well, with men who lived like devils incarnate. But it is a 
great judgment upon companions that survive. They are 
hardened and encouraged to go on in their course, by seeing 
(the wicked) die as chrisom-children." — Works, p. 949. 

There is nothing more graphic in the Pilgrim's Progress, 
than the following picture of a fruitless professor. " God 
says, ' Come Death, smite me this barren fig-tree. ' At this, 
Death comes into the chamber with grim looks, and Hell fol- 
lows him to the bedside. Both stare this fruitless professor in 
the face : yea, begin to lay hands upon him ; one smiting him 
with head-ache, heart-ache, back-ache, shortness of breath, 
fainting, qualms, trembling of joints, stoppage at the chest, 
and almost all the symptoms of one past recovery ; the other, 
casting sparks of fire into the mind and conscience. Now he 
begins to cry, ' Lord spare me, spare me !' ' Nay,' saith God, 

* you have been a provocation to me these three years. Take 
him, Death !' ' O, good Lord,' saith the Sinner, 'spare me 
but this one time, and I will be better,' ' Away, away, you 
are naught ! If I should recover you again, you would be as 
bad as you were before.' ' Good Lord, try me this once ; let 
me up again this once, and see if I do not mend.' (All this 
talk is while Death is by.) ' But will you promise me to mend V 

* Yes, indeed Lord, and vow it too !' ' Well,' saith God, ' Death, 
let this professor alone for this time. He hath vowed to 
amend his ways ; and vows are solemn things ! It may be 
he will be afraid to break his vows. Arise off thy bed I' 

" And now God lays down his axe. At this the poor crea- 
ture is very thankful, and calls on others to thank God. One 
would now think him a new creature indeed. But when he 



288 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

comes down from his bed, and ventures into the shop or yard, 
— and there sees how all things are gone to ' sixes and sevens,^ 
he begins to have second thoughts ; and says to his folks> 
' What have you all been doing ? How are all things out of 
order ? I am behind hand, — I cannot tell what ! One may 
see that you have neither wisdom nor prudence to order things, 
if a man be put a little aside !' But now he doubleth his dili- 
gence after the world! 'Alas,' he says: — 'but all must not 
be lost. We must have provident care.' And thus he for- 
getteth the sorrows of death, and the vows he made to be 
better. 

" These things proving ineffectual, God takes hold of his 
axe again, and sends Death to a wife, to a child, to the cattle. 
At this, the poor barren professor cries out again, ' Lord I have 
sinned ; spare me once more ! O take not away the desire 
of my eyes ; spare my children ; bless my labour ; and I will 
mend and be better.' 'No,' saith God, 'thou lied to me last 
time, and I will trust thee no longer :' — and He tumbleth the 
wife, the child, and the estate into the grave. 

" On this, the poor creature, like Ahab, walks softly awhile. 
Now, he renews his promises : — ' Lord try me this one time 
more. They go far that never turn. Take off thy hand and 
see !' Well, God sets down his axe again. But still, there is 
no fruit. Now then the axe begins to^be raised higher ! Yet, 
before he strike the stroke, he will try one more way at last ; 
and if that fail — down goes the fig-tree \ 

"This last way is, to tug and strive with this professor by 
His Spirit. But now, the mischief is, there is tugging and 
striving on both sides. The Spirit convinceth ; but the man 
turns a deaf ear. ' Receive my instruction and live,' he says ; 
but the man pulls away his shoulder. The Spirit parleyeth 
again, and urgeth new reasons. ' No,' saith the sinner, ' I 
have loved strangers, and after them I will go !' At this — 
God's fury cometh up into his face ! Now, he comes out from 
his holy place, and is terrible. Now, He sweareth in his WTath 
that they shall not enter into his rest. ' Cut it down, why 
cumbereth it the ground !'" — P. 1142. 

Well might Bunyan's clerical biographer say of him, " He 
laid open before men the saving promises and dreadful denun- 
ciations of the Scripture, and sent it so home, that it not only 
created joy, but trembling ; each one on their departure con- 
fessing, that their hearts were moved at his words." He adds, 
" I need not tell you that he pretended not to be orthodox, as 



LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 289 

to the Church estabhshed by the law of the nation : but all 
that knew him will bear witness, that his doctrine was nothing 
varying from the express word of God, though not complying 
in some things with the national Church, in manner and forms 
of worship." — Li/e, p. 22. 

This was the watchman on the walls of Zion, whose trum- 
pet was silenced, just as it had begun to alarm the men and 
women who were " at ease in Zion." It is impossible to tell, 
or to calculate, the consequences of the check thus given to the 
progress of even moral reformation in Bedfordshire, by silenc- 
ing John Bunyan. Such a ministry, in a county which had 
been highly republican and profane, was worth more to the 
cause of good order and virtue, than all the canon-law that 
could be preached or enforced in it. 

Can any man wonder now — that John Bunyan would not 
agree to any proposals for giving up his ministry ? The mau 
who knew that he could preach thus, must have regarded with 
more than supreme scorn all law and logic which called upon 
him to desist. He must have pitied as well as despised the 
men who could call in question his right or his fitness to warn 
and woo sinners to flee from the wrath to come. For what 
could they show as credentials of having received " the Holy 
Ghost," that deserved more credit or deference than his aptness 
to teach, and his power of persuasion, and his burning zeal to 
win souls? If these high attributes, and holy aspirations, be 
not proofs of a divine call to the ministr}^ — alas, for the weight 
of canonical proofs ! I do not think lightly of education or 
order. I revere them as, in general, essential to the efficiency 
of a permanent ministry. But they are ill applied, and worse 
advocated, when they call in question the right of holy men of 
talent to preach the gospel. No minister, of any church, can 
prove his own right to teach, from the Bible, who disputes 
Bunyan's right, or that of any other man who has Bunyan's 
spirit. I say, his spirit: for if his talents were necessary, no 
church could command a supply of them. 

It is delightful to observe how Providence is now placing 
the question of holy orders. The Spirit of God is blessing 
alike the faithful ministers of all Protestant Churches ; and 
leaving the unfaithful of them all, to stand unmarked by any 
token of the divine presence. 
25 



290 LIFE OF BUNYAI<r, 



CHAPTER XXVIir. 



BUNYAN S ANECDOTES 



It will be readily believed, from tbe few specimens of Bun* 
yan's vein already given, that his preaching had a peculiar 
charm for the poor. It was electrical amongst them, as well 
as edifying to the intelligent. One reason why " the common 
people heard him gladly," was, that he often re-pointed his 
most pointed warnings and admonitions with striking Anec- 
dotes which, if not always in the best taste, were well told, and 
told for a good purpose. I introduce them, however, not for 
their own sake, nor chiefly because they are Bunyan's, but be- 
cause they throw some light upon his times and contempora- 
ries, as well as illustrate his own graphic power. And we 
need glimpses of the kind they give into the private society of 
these times. There are so many Actors upon the stage of the 
Restoration, that we almost forget the audience before which 
they played their part : and although we feel that their influence 
could not have been good, we do not know how bad it was, 
until we follow some of the tools, dupes and imitators, of the 
Court part}^, into private life, public-houses, and country fairs. 
There, we see how truly the Throne was reflected in the bench 
of the ale-houses, and the Court at the May-pole : the low vul- 
gar, rivalling the high in bigotry and baseness. 

Bunyan's anecdotes of his times and contemporaries, are 
neither few nor apocryphal. They were written and pub- 
lished by himself although hitherto overlooked by his biogra- 
phers. This oversight is the more remarkable, because the 
paucity of their materials for his Life might well have sent 
them to search all his pages. That task, however, has been 
left for me ; and now that it is performed, I feel myself am- 
ply rewarded for my labour. Even the labour itself was but 
light, when I discovered that Badman was not altogether an 
allegorical person, like most of the characters in the Holy 
War. That discovery turned Bunyan into an Annalist at 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 291 

once : for all his illustrations of Badman's history, are anec- 
dotes of persons whom he had known. 

It was no ordinary fortitude or fidelity, on his part, to pub- 
lish these anecdotes of well known persons, whatever date be 
assigned to the publication of the first edition of " The Life 
and Death of Mr. Badman." Bunyan himself felt that he was 
daring not a little, by this exposure. Hence he says in the 
Preface, " I know it is ill puddling in the cockatrice's den, and 
they run hazards who hunt the wild boar. But I have ad- 
ventured to play at this time on the hole of the Asps. If they 
bite, they bite : if they sting, they sting. I have spoken what 
I have spoken : and now, come on me what will ! I know the 
better end of the staff is mine, whether Mr. Badman's friends 
rage or laugh at what I have writ. My object is to stop a 
hellish course of life, and save a soul from death." 

Agreeably to this design, Bunyan records first (as might be 
expected,) some of the remarkable judgments of God against 
SWEARERS, which had occurred in his own time. " One was," 
he says, " that dreadful judgment of God upon one N. P., at 
Wimbledon, in Surrey, who after a horrible fit of swearing, 
and cursing at some persons that did not please him, suddenly 
fell sick, and in a little time died raving, cursing and swear- 
ing." What must Bunyan have felt, both when this fact 
came to his knowledge, and when he wrote it 1 What mingled 
wonder and gratitude must have thrilled his spirit when he re- 
membered how often he had been spared, whilst a swearer and 
blasphemer ! 

With not less emotion would he record the following judg- 
ment ; " The dreadful story of Dorothy Mately of Ashover, in 
the county of Derby." — '" This Dorothy was noted by the peo- 
ple of the town, as a great swearer, and curser, and liar, and 
thief. The labour she usually did, was to wash the rubbish 
that came forth of the Lead Mines, and there to get sparks of 
lead-ore. And her usual way of asserting things was with 
these kind of imprecations, — I would I might sink into the 
earth if it be not so ; or, I would God would make the earth 
open and swallow me up. Now upon the 23d of March, 1660, 
this Dorothy was washing ore upon the top of a steep hill, 
about a quarter of a mile from Ashover, and was there taxed 
by a lad for taking two single pence out of his pocket. But 
she violently denied it ; wishing that the ground might swal- 
low her up if she had them. She also used the same wicked 
words on several other occasions that day. Now one George 



292 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

Hodgkinson, a man of good report there, came accidently by 
where Dorothy was, and stood still to talk with her, as she was 
washing her ore. There stood also a little child by her tub 
side, and another at a distance calling aloud to her to come 
away. Wherefore, the said George took the girl by the hand 
to lead her away to her that called her. But, behold, they 
had not gone above ten yards from Dorothy, but they heard her 
calling out for help. So looking back, he saw the woman, and 
her tub and sieve, twisting round and sinking into the ground. 
Then said the man. Pray to God to pardon thy sin ; for thou 
art never like to be seen alive any longer. So she and her 
tub tmrled round and round, till they sunk about three yards 
into the earth ; and then, for a while staid. Then, she called 
for help again, thinking, as she said, she should stay there. 
Now the man, though greatly amazed, did begin to think 
which way to help her. But, immediately, a great stone, 
which appeared in the earth, fell upon her head, and broke her 
skull, and then the earth fell in and covered her. She was after- 
wards digged up, and found about four yards within ground, 
with the boy's two single pence in her pocket ; but her tub and 
sieve could not be found." 

This story is so circumstantial, that Bunyan seems to have 
had it from Hodgkinson's own lips. He evidently believed 
" the relator" too. This was easy for him to do. And, why 
should it be difficult for any one ? That was an age when 
such warnings were loudly called for. Nothing, perhaps, but 
signal judgments could have checked the profane then. This 
one fell, indeed, upon an obscure woman : but it fell in Bun- 
yan's time ; and he soon gave it a publicity which made what 
was " done in a corner," tell over England, as the fate of Ko, 
rah and his company did in the wilderness : for the Life of 
Badman followed in the wake of the Pilgrim's Progress. He 
intended this. In the Preface he says, " As I was considering 
with myself, what I had written concerning the progress of the 
Pilgrim from this world to glory ; and how it had been ac^ 
ceptable to many in this nation, it came again into my mind 
to write, of the life and death of the Ungodly, and of their 
travel from this world to hell." It had thus, probably, a great 
circulation amongst all ranks ; and perhaps found its way, as 
the Pilgrim certainly did, into the hands of the court of Charles 
II. ; where, of all places, it was 7nost needed ! The King's 
copy of the Pilgrim is in the British Museum. 

Another class of judgments which Bunyan marked and re. 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 293 

ported with deep interest, were those which befel Informers, 
who had betrayed the secret meetings of the persecuted Dis- 
senters. He says, he knew so many instances of the judg- 
ments of God overtaking these spies and accusers, as filled 
him with " astonishment and wonder." He gives the initials^ 
as well as the history of one of these wretches, who practised 
about Bedford; and marks the anecdote with a cross, to show 
that the event fell under his own observation ; a proof of the 
fearlessness with which he " played on the hole of the Asps," 
that their prey might escape, and they themselves take warn- 
ing. " In our Town," he says, "^ there was. one W. S., a man 
of a very wicked life ; and he, when there seemed to be coun- 
tenance given to it, would needs turn Informer. Well, so he 
did ; and was as diligent in his business as most of them could 
be. He would watch of nights, — climb trees, — and range the 
wood of days, if possible to find out the Meeters: for then 
they were forced to meet in the fields." 

(The accompanying Illustration is a faithful copy of an old 
Print, by Wooding ; and only a too faithful picture of the 
perils of good men, in these bad times. I delight to preserve 
it, because it reveals to the eye both the aspect and the spirit 
of the Non. Cons, and Covenanters of these times. Such 
were the men, in looks, and in rank of life, whom the Stuarts, 
these dog-stars of the Church, drove into the wilderness, and 
hunted in the mountains, dens and caves of the earth. Such 
were the men, whom Scott tried to caricature, in Old Mortal- 
ity : but his genius triumphed over his will. It could not re^ 
sist their fascination, whilst exaggerating their foibles. They 
started into such majesty at every stroke of the Phidias-hand 
of the great sculptor, that he was com}>elled to worship the 
Memories he intended to malign. He wondered forsooth ! — 
that any one could have suspected him of injustice to the 
Covenanters. So modern Players and Critics wonder how 
any one could imagine, that Dr. Squintum and Cantwell were 
ever meant for " that good man, Mr. Whitefield." The fact 
is, Scott was more under the spell of Dr. Erskine, his father's 
minister, than he was aware of, or than Lockhart understood, 
when the Covenanters cowed his spirit, by their ascendency 
over his heart.) 

But to return to the Informer : " He would," says Bunyan, 
" curse the Meeters bitterly, and swear most fearfully what he 
would do when he found them. Well ; after he had gone on^ 
like a Bedlam, in his course awhile, and had done some mis- 

25* 



294 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

chiefs to the people, he was stricken by the hand of God, and 
that in this manner. Although he had had his tongue natu- 
rally at will ; now, he was taken with a faultering in his 
speech, and could not for weeks together speak otherwise than 
just as a man that was drunk. Then he was taken with a 
drawling and slabbering at his mouth ; which phlegm would 
sometimes hang at his mouth, well nigh half way down to the 
ground. Then he had such a weakness in the hack-sinews of 
his neck, that ofttimes he could not look up before him, unless 
he clapt his hand upon his forehead, and held up his head that 
way by the strength of his hand. After this his speech went 
quite away, and he could speak no more than a swine or a 
bear. Therefore, like one of them, he would grunt and make 
an ugly noise, according as he was offended or pleased, or 
would have anything done. 

" In this posture, he continued for the space of half a year 
or thereabouts ; all the while, otherwise, well ; and could go 
about his business : save once, that he had a fall from the bell, 
as it hangs in our steeple ; which it was a wonder it did not 
kill him. But after that, he also walked about until God had 
made a sufficient spectacle of His judgment for his sin ; and 
then on a sudden, he was stricken and died miserably : and so 
there was an end of him and his doings. 

" I'll tell you of another. About four miles from St. Neot's 
there was a gentleman had a man, and a lusty young man he 
was. Well ; an Informer he was, and did much distress some 
people ; and had perfected his informations so effectually 
against some, that there was nothing further to do, but for the 
Constables to make distress on the people, that he might have 
the money or goods : and, as I have heard, he hastened then 
much to do it. Now while he was in the heat of his work, as 
he stood one day by the fire-side, he had, it should seem, a mind 
to a sop in the pan ; for the spit was then at the fire. So he 
went to make one. But, behold a dog — some say his favourite 
dog — took distaste at something, and immediately bit his mas- 
ter by the leg : the which bite, notwithstanding all the means 
that was used to cure him^ turned (as was said) into a gan- 
grene. However, that wound was his death, and that a dread- 
ful one too : for my relator said, that he lay in such a con- 
dition by this bite, that his flesh rotted from off him, before he 
went out of the world." 

It was in no vindictive spirit, that Bunyan told these anec- 
dotes. He durst neither overlook nor conceal them ; but he 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 295 

took no pleasure in recording them. " If it had been the will 
of God," he says, " I would, that neither I nor anybody else, 
could tell more of these stories : true stories, that are neither 
lie nor romance. But what need I instance in particular per- 
sons, when the judgment of God against this kind of people 
was made manifest, I think I may say, if not in all, yet in most 
of the counties of England, where such poor creatures were." 

It is only too easy to illustrate and verify Bunyan's opinion, 
in this matter. God did make examples, wherever such trait- 
ors and trepanners " wore out the saints of the Most High :" 
and what God does in retribution, ought not to be buried in 
oblivion. I know that it is now unpopular to revive the 
memory of such facts. I feel too, that we are prone to 
call the fearful end of an enemy, a judgment ; and the 
same end, only a misfortune, when it befals a friend. 
But still, it is equally wrong and dangerous to forget 
the signal catastrophes, by which the living conviction 
" that verily there is a God who judgeth," is kept up in the 
public mind. I have, therefore, felt it to be an imperative 
duty to preserve in the sketch of Bunyan^s Times, some of the 
most remarkable instances of Divine retribution. 

Bunyan was also an attentive observer, and occasionally a 
frank recorder, of the Apostacies from godliness, which oc- 
curred in his neighbourhood. He mentions two, of which he 
says expressly, " This was done in Bedford : I knew a man 
that was once, as I thought, hopefully awakened about his con. 
dition. Yea, I knew tivo that were so awakened. But in 
(course of) time, they began to draw back, and to incline 
again to their lusts. Wherefore, God gave them up to the 
company of three or four men, that in less than three years 
brought them roundly to the gallows, where they were hanged 
like dogs because they refused to live like honest men." 

With almost equal fidelity to time and place, Bunyan ven- 
tured to give the following account of an Infidel : " There was 
a man dvvelt about twelve miles from us, that had so trained 
himself up in his atheistical notions, that, at last, he attempted 
to write a book against Jesus Christ, and against the divine 
authority of the Scriptures : but I think it was not published r 
well ; after many days, God struck him with sickness, whereof 
he died. So, being sick, and musing upon his former doings, 
the book he had written came into his mind ; and, with it, 
such a sense of his evil in writing it, that it tore his conscience 
as a lion would tear a kid. He lay, therefore, upon his death- 



296 LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 

bed in sad case, and much affliction of conscience. Some of 
my friends also went to see him ; and as they were in his 
chamber one day, he hastily called for pen, ink, and paper; 
which when it was given him, he took it, and writ to this 
purpose, — ' I (such a one, in such a Town) must go to hell- 
fire, for writing a book against Jesus Christ, and against the 
authority of the Holy Scriptures.' He would also have leap- 
ed out of the window of his house, to have killed himself: but 
was prevented of that. So he died in his bed ; — such a death 
as it was. It will be well, if others take warning by this story. 
The story is as true as it is remarkable. I had it from them 
that I dare believe, who themselves were eye and ear wit- 
nesses ; and also caught him in their arms, and saved him^ 
when he would have leaped out of his chamber-window, to 
have destroyed himself." 

Bunyan seems to have had not a few opportunities, even 
while in prison, of marking both the power and the treachery 
of conscience. One story on this subject deserves to be 
known. " When I was in prison," he says, " there came a 
woman to me, that was under a great deal of trouble. So I 
asked her (she being a stranger to me,) what she had to say to 
me. She said, she was afraid she should be damned. I asked 
her the cause of those fears. She told me, that she had some, 
times since lived with a shop-keeper at Wellingborough, and 
had robbed his box in the shop, several times, of money, to the 
value of more than now I will say. * And pray,' says she, ' tellr 
me what I shall do.' I told her, — I would have her go to her 
Master, and make him satisfaction. She said, she was afraid. 
I asked her. Why ? She said, she doubted he would hang her. 
I told her, I would intercede for her life, and make use of other 
friends too to do the like. But she told me she durst not 
venture that. ' Well,' said I, = shall I send to your Master^ 
while you abide out of sight, and make your peace with him 
before he sees you V And with that, I asked her Master's 
name. But all that she said in answer to this was, — ' Pray, 
let it alone till I come to you again. So, away she went, and 
neither told me her Master's name nor her own. This was 
about ten or twelve years since; and I never saw her again. 
I tell you this story, for this cause, to confirm your fears, that 
such kind of servants, too many there be : and that God makes 
them sometimes like old Todd, to betray themselves, through 
the terrors He lays upon them. I could tell you of another,. 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 297 

that came to me with a Hke relation concerning herself, and 
the robbinir of her Mistress : but at this time, let this suffice. " 
The story of old Todd, Bunyan himself tells thus : " At a 
summer Assizes holden at Hartford, while the Judge was sit- 
ting on the bench, comes this old Todd into the court, clothed 
in a green suit, with his leathern girdle in his hand, his bosom 
open, and all dripping of sweat as if he had run for his life. 
And being come in, he spake aloud as follows : * My Lord,' 
said he, ' here is the veriest rogue that breathes on the face of 
the earth. I have been a thief from a child. When I was 
but a little one, I gave myself to rob orchards, and to do other 
such like wicked things ; and I have continued a thief ever 
since. My Lord, there has not been a robbery committed 
these many years, within so many miles of this place, but I 
have either been at it, or privy to it. 

*' The Judge thought the fellow was mad : but after some 
conference with some of the Justices, they agreed to indict 
him. And so they did, of several felonious actions : to all 
of which he heartily confessed guilty ; and so was hanged, 
with his wife at the same time. 

*' As for the truth of this story," says Bunyan, " the relator 
(whom I dare believe) told me, that he was in the court at the 
same time himself, and stood within less than two yards of old 
Todd, when he heard him utter the words aloud." 

Bunyan remembered and published cases of this kind, just 
for the same reason as he marked the judgments of God on 
blasphemers. He himself had begun like old Todd. Hence, 
he says in his Life, " had not a miracle of precious grace pre- 
vented, I had not only perished by the stroke of Eternal Jus- 
tice, but had also laid myself open even to the stroke of those 
Laws, which bring some to disgrace and open shame before the 
face of the world." 

Thus, these anecdotes, although they concern Bunyan's 
contemporaries, disclose his own spirit, when, at the maturity 
of his mind and piety, he reviewed his early life. " Remem- 
bering the wormwood and the gall," his soul had them " still 
in remembrance, and was humbled within" him. He " pos- 
sessed the iniquities of his youth" to the last, in the sense of 
never forgetting them, even when he was sure that they were 
forgiven. 

Drunkenness also, although a vice he seems never to have 
been addicted to, was yet one he so narrowly escaped, that he 
kept his eye very closely npon the consequences of it in others, 



298 LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 

and fearlessly published the facts. " I knew," he says, " one 
who dwelt not far off our Town, that got a wife, as Mr. Bad- 
man got his (by hypocritical canting,) but he did not enjoy her 
long : for one night as he was riding home from his com- 
panions, where he had been at a neighbouring town,, his horse 
threw him to the ground, where he was found dead at break of 
day, frightfully and lamentably mangled with his fall, and 
besmeared with his own blood." 

Bunyan's views of Intemperance were, as might be expected, 
very awful. He had no hope of "an oZtZ drunkard" being 
ever reclaimed. " Tell me," he asks, " when did you see an 
old drunkard converted ? No, no ; such a one will sleep till he 
dies, though he sleeps on the top of a mast. So that if a man 
have any respect for either credit, health, life, or salvation, he 
will not be a drunken man." He was, however, no Tee-To- 
taller, although emphatically, and even rigidly, a temperate 
man. I judge thus, because he blames Badman for not offer- 
ing any refreshment to the pious men, who came to visit him 
on his death-bed, " When they were going, he would scarce 
bid them drink, or say. Thank you for your good company, 
and good instruction." 

Bunyan did not mean, I sm sure, to blame Badman for with- 
holding drink, which was not required by thirst or fatigue. 
He meant only, that the common courtesies of life were not 
shown to godly men, although they had come on foot, or from 
a distance, and thus needed refreshment. In this matter he 
distinguished between temperance and total abstinence, as h© 
did between a Christmas Pie and Christmas. 

How severely and successfully he could expose drunkenness^ 
the following anecdote, from his own pen, will show. " It is," 
he says, " a swinish vanity, indeed : I will tell you another 
story. There was a gentleman that had a drunken servant to be 
his groom ; and (he) coming home one night much abused with 
Beer, his Master saw it. Well (quoth his Master within him^ 
self,) I will let thee alone to-night ; but to-morrow morning I 
will convince thee thou art worse than a beast, by the beha-^ 
viour of my horse. So when morning was come, he bids his man 
go and water his horse. And so he did : but coming up to his 
Master, he commands him to water him again. So the fellow 
rode into the water a second time. But his Master's horse 
would drink no more. So the fellow game and told his Mas- 
ter. Then said his Master, ' Thou drunken sot, thou art far 
worse than my horse. He will drink but to satisfy nature ) 



LIFE OP BUNYAN. 299 

but thou wilt drink to the abuse of nature. He will drink but 
to refresh himself; but thou to thy hurt and damage. He 
will drink that he may be more serviceable to his Master : but 
thou till thou art incapable of serving either God or man. O, 
thou Beast, how much art thou worse than the horse thou 
ridest on !' " 

This story is, I am aware, familiar, in a vague form. Bun- 
yan's version of it is, however, worth preserving ; it smacks 
so of his own style. " His," as Dr. Southey well says, " is a 
home-spun style, not a manufactured one. It is a clear stream 
of current English — the vernacular of his age; sometimes in- 
deed in its rusticity and coarseness, but always in its plain- 
ness and strength. To this natural style, Bunyan is in some 
degree indebted for his general popularity : his language is 
every where level to the most ignorant reader, and to the 
meanest capacity ; there is a homely reality about it : a nurse- 
ry tale is more intelligible, in its manner of narration, to a 
child." 

It can hardly surprise any one, that Bunyan was not wiser 
than his generation, in regard to old stories about the devil. 
He gave currency to some of these, without at all qestioning 
their truth, when they happened to furnish warning against 
the popular vices of his times. It is, however, curious, that 
while he would believe almost anything about the devil, if it 
only showed the evil or the danger of sin, he was very cau- 
tious in giving an opinion upon the minstry of Angels. Ac- 
cordingly when he was told of a " godly old Puritan," whose 
wife heard, as he was dying, " the sweetest music," " like melo- 
dious notes of angels," which " went farther and farther off 
from the house," as the spirit departed, Bunyan said, " I can- 
not say, but that God goes out of his ordinary road with us 
poor mortals sometimes." He then added, that Badman's 
wife '• had better music in her heart," when she was dying, 
" than sounded in this woman's ears." 

Here he is prudent ; but in the very next breath, he tells 
old Clarke's most astounding story of the Woman of Oster, in 
Germany, without comment or query. " This woman," he says, 
" used in her cursing, to give herself body and soul to the devil. 
Being reproved for it, she still continued the same ; till, being 
at a wedding-feast, the devil came in person, and carried her 
up into the air, with the most horrible outcries and roarings. 
In that sort, he carried her round about the town, so that the 
inhabitants were ready to die with fear." I dare not quote 



300 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

more of the scene ; except, that the devil threw part of the 
body upon the banqueting table, before the Mayor, telling his 
worship, " that like destruction awaited him," if he did not 
" amend his wicked life." This is very unlike the devil : but 
Bunyan forgot that, in his anxiety to warn swearers, and 
cursers. Thus his very credulity arose from good motives. 
Besides, it was not greater than that of more learned men, in 
these times. 

Another vice of the age, which he lashed severely, was the 
indelicate dress of women, who imitated the court bevy of 
Charles II. " I once talked with a maid, by way of reproof," 
he says, " of her fond and gaudy garments. But she told me, 
the Tailor would make it so. Alas, poor proud girl, she gave 
the order to the Tailor so to make it. Many make parents, 
husbands, and tailors, the blind to others : but their naughty 
hearts, and their giving way thereto, — that is the original 
cause of all these evils. Many have their excuses ready : but 
these will be but the spider's web, when the thunder of the 
word of the great God shall rattle from heaven against them, 
as it will at death and judgment : but I wish it might do it 
before." 

I dare not quote his sketches of fashionable dress. Not, 
however, that they are extravagant or indelicate ; but only too 
graphic. Bunyan's tastes were chaste, and his mind nobly 
pure, from the time he became a Christian. Indeed before, 
he was not a sensualist. Who could keep nearer to truth, or 
farther from indelicacy, than he does in the following charac- 
teristic stroke ! " I wonder what it was that of old was called 
* the attire of a harlot.' Certainly, it could not be more be- 
witching and tempting, than are the garments of many pro- 
fessors this day." But this subject is sufficiently touched by 
others. 

It was not, however, vain professors only, that he could 
show up graphically. He pilloried the farmers' wives who 
"made a prey of the necessity of the poor," as well as the 
" proud dames " who aped the court. Cobbett, with all his 
powers of description and exposure, never went beyond the 
following sketch. It only wants 7iames, in order to be a per- 
fect story. Even without names, it is all alive, and in motion. 
— " There is a poor body, we will suppose, so many miles 
from the market ; and this man wants a bushel of grist, a 
pound of butter, or a cheese, for himself, his wife, and poor 
children. But his dwelling is so far from the market, that if 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 301 

he goes'thither, he shall lose his day's work, which will be 
eight-pence or ten-pence damage to him ; and that is some- 
thing to a poor man. So he goeth to one of his Masters or 
Dames for what he wanteth, and asks them to help him with 
such a thing. Yes, say they, you may have it : but, withal, 
they give him a gripe : perhaps, make him pay as much more 
for it at home, as they can get when they have carried it five 
miles to a market ; yea, and that too for a refuse of their commo- 
dity. In this the women are especially faulty, in the sale of their 
butter and cheese. But above all your Hucksters, that buy up 
the poor man's victuals by wholesale, and sell it to him again 
for unreasonable gains by retail, and as we call it, by piece- 
meal, they are got into a way, after a stringing rate, to play 
their game upon (the poor) by extortion. I mean, such who 
buy up butter, cheese, eggs, bacon, by wholesale, and sell it 
again (as they call it) by twopenny-worths, penny-worths, a 
halfpenny. worth, or the like, to the poor, — all the week, after 
the market is past. These, though I would not condemn them 
all, do, many of them, bite and pinch the poor, by this kind of 
evil dealing. Besides, these are Usurers. Yea, they take 
usury for victuals; which thing the Lord hath forbidden. 

" Perhaps some will find fault, for my meddling thus, with 
other folks' matters, and for my prying thus into the secrets of 
their iniquity. But to such I would say, — since such actions 
are evil, it is time they should be hissed out of the world." — 
Works, vol. ii. Even Ebenezer Elliot, the Corn-Law Rhymer, 
could not wish this better done. It is not an anecdote, I know ; 
but it has dramatic power, of the highest order. This may 
be accounted for by Bunyan's opportunities of seeing the mar- 
kets, whilst travelling as a tinker. There was also a regular 
Cheese fair at Elstow. Ca?nden^s Brit. 

Bunyan tells a remarkable story in his Life of Badman, con* 
cerning the master of an Ale-House, whom he evidently knew 
something of. I refer to it, for the sake of some incidental 
facts which throw some light upon his times. The Publican 
had a half-witted son, whom he encouraged to curse him for 
the amusement of his guests, when they were too dull. H<3 
would even irritate the poor idiot, to consign him to the denl ! 
In course of time, the wretched man was seized with a disor- 
der, which was deemed Satanic possession. Something? as ii 
" a live thing," moved up and down in his body, u-itil his fits 
came on. Then, it settled like " a hard lump op the soft part 
of his chest, and so would rend and tear hin'* and make him 
26 



302 LIFE OF BTJNYAN. 

roar." This, of course, was nothing but extreme spasms. It 
was, however, treated as possession. " There was one Free- 
man — who was more than an ordinary doctor — sent for, to cast 
out this devil : — and I was there when he attempted to do it ;" 
says Bunyan, or Bunyan's friend. 

" The manner was this : they had the possessed man into 
an outer-room, and laid him on his belly upon a form, with his 
head hanging over the form's-end. Then they bound him 
down thereto : which done, they set a pan of coals under his 
mouth, and put something therein that made a great smoke : 
by this means (as it was said) to fetch out the devil. There, 
therefore, they kept the man till he was almost smothered in 
smoke : but no devil came out of him. At which Freeman 
was somewhat abashed, the man greatly afflicted, and I made 
to go away wondering and fearing. In a little time, there- 
fore, that which possessed the man carried him out of the 
world, according to the cursed wishes of his son. And this 
was the end of this ^eZZish mirth !" 

There was a wiser Doctor in Bedford than Freeman. " We 
had in our town," says Bunyan, "a little girl that loved to eat 
the heads of foul tobacco-pipes ; and neither rod nor good 
word could reclaim her, or make her leave them. So her fa- 
ther takes advice of a Doctor, to wean her from them. 'Take,' 
saith the Doctor, ' a great many of the foulest tobacco-pipe 
heads you can get, and boil them in milk, and make a posset 
of that milk, and make your daughter drink that posset-drink 
up.' He did so, and made her drink it up. It made her so 
sick, that she could never abide to meddle with tobacco-pipe 
heads any more ; and so she was cured of that disease," 
Bunyan used to tell this anecdote, in order to illustrate the 
fact, " that sin may be made an affliction as bitter as worm- 
wood and gall ;" and to enforce the warning, " Take heed ; 
God will make thee a posset so bitter to thy soul, that it 
shall make sin loathsome to thee." — Works, p. 538. This< 
girl was, probably, the daughter of the Pipe Manufacturer, 
mentioned in the Chapter, " Bunyan's Church Persecuted." 

I add only two more anecdotes illustrative of his mode of 
turning trifles to account. "I heard a story from a soldier, 
who, vith his company, had laid siege against a Fort, — that 
so long hs the besieged were persuaded their foes would show 
them no favour, they fought like mad-men : but when they 
saw one of tr.oix- fellows taken, and received to favour, they 
all came tumbling ^own from their fortress, and delivered them- 



LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 808 

selves into their enemy's hands. And I am persuaded that, 
did sinners believe the grace and wilUngness of Christ's heart 
to save, as the word imports, they would come tumbling into 
his arms." — Works, p. 446. 

" Once being at an honest woman's house, I, after some 
pause, asked her how she did? She said, 'Very badly.' I 
asked her if she was sick? She answered, ' No.' ' What 
then,' said I, ' are any of your children ill ?' She told me 
* No.' ' What,' said I, 'is your husband amiss, or do you go 
back in the world V ' No, no,' said she, but I am afraid I 
shall not be saved !' She then broke out with a heavy heart, 
saying, ' Ah ! Goodman Bunyan, — Christ and a pitcher ! Had 
I Christ, it would be better with me than I think it is now, 
though I went and begged my bread with a pitcher !' This cry, 
' Christ and a pitcher,' made a melodious noise in the ears of 
the very angels. The hells of heaven ring, and angels shout 
for joy, when the want and worth of Christ" are thus felt and 
confessed. — Works, p. 526, 544. 

It will be readily seen from such applications of familiar 
events, that Bunyan was an attentive observer of men and 
thingvS, and thus that most of the characters in his Pilgrims 
were copied from real life. This has been suspected in his 
Holy War also ; but without reason. The leaders in that war 
are either too good or too bad, to have had their originals in the 
royal or the parliamentary army. Besides, Bunyan had not 
sufficient access to any of them, to copy from them. He 
may have found some of the new Aldermen and Burgesses of 
Mansoul in the old Corporation of Bedford ; but his Captains 
and Standard Bearers, are all pure abstractions, or embodied, 
passions. 



304 LIFEOFBUNYAN 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

bunyan's jailor. 

1661. 

BuNYAN, like Joseph in Egypt, found a friend in "the Keeper 
of the prison ;" — and he equally deserved one. Would we 
knew his Jailor's name ! But, hke that of Joseph's, it is un- 
known. It will be said of both keepers, however, until the 
end of time, that " God gave" their prisoners favour in their 
sight. 

Bunyan says of his Jailor, " By him I had some liberty 
granted me, more than at the first : so that I followed my 
wonted course of preaching ; taking all occasions that were 
put into my hand to visit the people of God, exhorting them 
to be steadfast in the faith of Christ Jesus, and to take heed 
that they touched not the Common Prayer, but to mind the 
Word of God which giveth direction to Christians in every 
point ; being ' able to make the man of God perfect in all 
things through faith in Jesus Christ, and thoroughly to furnish 
him unto all good work.' " 2 Tim. iii. 17. " Touch not ;" — 
this seems, at first sight, but a sorry return for the freedom so 
generously granted by the friendly Jailor. It was, however, 
like Paul's "Nay, verily let them fetch us out," addressed to 
the Jailor at Philippi. It was not to peril him, but to main- 
tain the rights of Roman Citizenship, that Paul spoke thus. 
So with Bunyan. Had he been silent on the subject of the 
Prayer Book, out of consideration for his Keeper, he would 
have stultified his own cause, now that the Prayer Book was 
made the hinge upon which even citizenship turned. Besides, 
to give any quarter to the claims of that book then, would 
have been to concede all the rights of conscience : for not only 
was no discretionary use of it permitted, but it was employed to 
enforce attendance upon the ministry of men who, in many 
instances (judging merely from Bishop Burnet's account of 



LIFE OF BUN YAN. 805 

them,) were unworthy of taking its holy petitions upon their 
unhallowed lips. Whilst, therefore, it is a melancholy fact in 
the annals of genius, that Bunyan denounced the book itself 
as if it had been weak or worthless, it is a glorious fact in 
the annals of religious liberty, that he dared death, as well as 
endured bondage, in order to dissuade his own adherents from 
touching the Common Prayer : for to touch it then, whilst it 
was both the symbol and shibboleth of Intolerance, would have 
been homage to Tyranny, and high treason against the first 
principles of Protestantism. Bunyan felt this, and flung it to 
the winds at all hazards. 

This hostility to the Prayer Book had a re-action which did 
good. It led the thoughtful admirers of the Liturgy to throw 
their soul into the prayers, and compelled even hirelings to read 
them with something like devotion ; and thus the prejudices 
of many were conciliated wherever the service was well con- 
ducted. This is, happily the case still. Less justice would 
be done to the Prayers in many Churches, if fewer Chapels 
rejected the use of them. Bunyan is not to thank, nor are the 
Nonconforrnists, for this re-action ; for they did not intend to 
produce it. Nonconformists, however, rejoice in it now. The 
Churchmen who doubt this, do not know them. They do not 
indeed, blame Bunyan for teaching "Touch not;" but they 
bless God on behalf of every devotional man who pours the 
spirit of prayer into the forms of the Church ; just as they 
rejoice in the multiplication of evangelical Clergymen. There 
is no inconsistency on their part in this. It implies no con- 
cession to Church or State, of even the shadow of a right to 
impose forms of worship. The whole body of Dissenters 
agree, on that point, with a clerical Editor of Bunyan's Pil- 
grim, " that nominal Protestants enacting laws requiring con- 
formity to their own creeds and forms, and inflicting punish- 
ments on such as peaceably dissent from them are actually 
involved in the guilt of the heathen persecutors, and of their 
anti-Christian s\iccGS,sovs, e,\(in if thfur doctrine and worship 
be allowed to be scriptural and spiritual. For these methods 
only serve to promote hypocrisy, and to expose the conscien- 
tious to t!ie malice, envy, or avarice of the unprincipled." — 
ScotCs Notes. 

Bunyan's jailor seems to have been of this opinion. At 

least, he acted agreeably to it, as far and as long as he could. 

He not only allowed Bunyan to visit his family and his flock, 

but even permitted him to go to London. This last step periU 

2.6* 



306 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

led both. It can hardly be called a rash step, however, on the 
part of Bunyan. He needed more influential friends, in pros- 
pect of a second trial, than Bedford could furnish. Besides, 
all the Baptists of the county were not sufficiently his friends, 
to make a joint and hearty effort on his behalf. His "Open 
Communion " church and creed shut up some of their sympa- 
thies ; and most of his brethren had quite enough to do to take 
care of themselves. It was also the right time, in one sense, 
to visit London. The King was juggling the Dissenters, and 
the Mayor harassing the Quakers and Baptists, and the Cabi- 
net hatching the Act of Uniformity. Thinking men were thus 
upon the alert to learn from the persecutions in the country, 
what more might be expected in town. Henry Adis (a Free- 
will Baptist, as he calls himself,) was also preparing his 
Thunder against the City Magistrates, and especially against 
Alderman Brown, in a pamphlet entitled " Thunder to Brown 
the Mayor, by one of the Sons of Zion, become a Boanerges." 
Altogether Bunyan found 

"Fit audience, if few," 

to listen to his complaints and appeals against his unjust sen- 
tence. It was also of importance to him to become acquainted 
with the few Baptists in London, who maintained open com- 
munion. One of these, Henry Jesse, was a man whose talents, 
learning, and philanthropy, would have given additional weight 
to any good cause. Bunyan knew this, and defended himself 
with Jesse's weapons, when the strict Baptists assailed him. 
This was wormwood to his opponents : for all these churches 
knew that Jesse was a convert to immersion, to boast of; 
because he had prepared a new translation of the Scriptures, 
and was the almoner of the poor Jews in Jerusalem, as well as 
the most influential minister of the denomination. 

Thus, although hazardous, it was not rash in Bunyan to visit 
London, whilst his jailor allowed him to be a prisoner at large. 
He won friends there, who, although they could not deliver 
him, appreciated him, and became both the means and the 
medium of bringing him before the world as an author. In- 
deed, but for them, it is impossible to see how his first works 
in prison could have been published to his advantage, or even 
published at all. He had no money, and his fellow-prisoners 
had no influence with the trade ; and thus, instead of pointing 
old truths with pure Saxon, or setting « apples of gold in frames 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 30T 

of silver," he must have continued as he began, to tag stay- 
laces with old brass, had not his London friends interfered. 

With these ultimate consequences of Bunyan's visit to Lon- 
don before us, it is not difficult to excuse his jailor's dereliction 
of official duty. Even Dr. Southey says, " He hud fortunately 
a friend in the jailor." But did not the jailor betray the trust 
confided to him, and Bunyan sin in accepting freedom ? Now 
the former certainly went far beyond all the discretionary 
power which law or custom allowed to jailors. He did not, 
however, stretch his prerogative farther in Bunyan's favour, 
than the judges strained theirs against Bunyan. If he vio- 
lated his office by favouring him, they violated theirs by in- 
sulting him. The judges went as far beyond law when the 
prisoner was at the bar, as the jailor stopt short of the law 
when the prisoner was condemned. Thus one extreme begat 
another. Undue severity, on the part of the judges, produced 
an excess of leniency in the jailor. 

But the man deserves to be acquitted as well as excused. He 
was paying both King and Law a high compliment, in taking 
for granted that they were more equitable than KeeUng and 
Twisdon. Charles had made promises, and issued proclama- 
tions, in favour of Nonconformists, which it was the jailor's 
duty to believe, until they were revoked ; and they were not 
revoked when he mitigated Bunyan's sentence. That sen- 
tence was in the very teeth of the royal proclamations, and 
thus it tacitly called the King a liar and a hypocrite : an im-^ 
plication which, however true, the jailor had no reason to be- 
lieve at the time. Thus he had no alternative but to disobey 
the judges, or give the lie direct to the King. He preferred 
the former until the King gave the lie to himself. 

There is, I am aware, special pleading in this argument. — 
Be it so ! It is thus one of the many proofs furnished by ex- 
perience, that it is impossible to revere the majesty of law, 
when the administration of justice is either cruel or insulting. 
In Bunyan's case, an honest man could no more blame the 
jailor, than he could praise the judges ; for his departure from 
the letter of the law appears a virtue in the presence of their 
outrages against the spirit of the law. 

I once thought, judging from the lengths which the jailor 
ventured to go, that he must have made up his mind to lose his 
situation rather than enforce iniquitous sentences. It was, 
however, only in Bunyan's case that he dared any thing ; al- 
thougrh there were other prisoners equally innocent. He was, 



308 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

however, kind to them all ; and peculiarly so to Bunyan, even 
after he could not allow him to ramble. His confidence in 
him at first was almost superstitious. " It being known to 
some of the persecuting prelates," says Ivimey, " that Bunyan 
was often out of prison, they sent down an officer to talk with 
the jailor on the subject ; and in order to find him out, he was 
to arrive there in the middle of the night. Bunyan was at 
home with his family ; but so i*estless that he could not sleep. 
He therefore told his wife that he must return immediately. 
He did so, and the jailor blamed him for coming in at so 
unreasonable an hour. Early in the morning the messenger 
came, and said, 'Are all the prisoners safe V ' Yes,' ' Is John 
Bunyan safe?' 'Yes,' 'Let me see him,' He was called 
and appeared, and all was well. After the messenger left, the 
jailor said to Bunyan, ' Well, you may go out again when you 
think proper; for you know when to return, better than I can 
tell you.'" 

Bunyan's return from London did not end so well. His 
visits among the Baptists excited, suspicion ; because some of 
that body were Fifth Monarchy men, or such extravagant Mil- 
lenarians, that the whole body was singled out to be watched 
with unwinking jealousy. Bunyan was, therefore, soon dis^ 
covered, whilst moving to and fro amongst them, and soon re- 
ported to the government as a conspirator from the country, in 
league with them. Accordingly, another Venner's insurrec- 
tion was suspected by the weak — and wished for by the strong. 
Both the hope and the fear ended, however, in the closer con- 
finement of Bunyan, when he returned to Bedford : for he tcent 
back. The fact seems to be, that he had moved about in Lon- 
don, as he well might, with such an air of innocence and sim- 
plicity, that even informers could not get up a charge against 
him which would have satisfied even Alderman Brown, although 
the comedians of the day were in the habit of saying, that the 
devil had just ceased to be black, and had become Brown. It 
surprised Btmyan, therefore, as well as pained him, to find on 
his return, that close imprisonment awaited him. He had not 
anticipated this result, as he walked back. He had, indeed, 
pleased himself with the fond hope of being much with his fa- 
mily, and often amongst his flock, to cheer both with his pre- 
sence, and to encourage them by the promises of sympathy he 
had received in the metropolis. No wonder, therefore, that 
he exclaimed, when his jailor told him, as he entered the prison, 
that he must no longer look out at the door, "God knows it i«. 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 309 

a slander, that I went to London to make or plot an insurrec- 
tion, or to sow divisions." He felt keenly for the jailor also. 
"My enemies," he says, " were so angry, that they had almost 
cast my jailor out of his place ; threatening to indict him, and 
to do what they could against him." 

All this, however, neither alienated nor alarmed the Jailor, 
so as to render him indifferent about Bunyan. He could no 
longer let him slip out of prison ; but he did all he could to obtain 
a fair hearing for him at the next Assizes, although that " right 
Judas," Cobb, was opposed to him. Bunyan's account of this 
is very characteristic. " Because I had a desire to come be- 
fore the Judge in 1662, I desired my Jailor to put my name 
into the calender among Felons, and made friends of the 
Judge and High Sheriff, who promised that I should be called ; 
so that I thought what I had done might have been effectual 
for the obtaining of my desire : but all was in vain ; for when 
the assizes came, though my name was in the calendar, and 
also though both the judge and sheriff had promised that I should 
appear before them, yet the justices and the clerk of the peace, 
did so work it about, that I, notwithstanding, was deferred, and 
was not suffered to appear : and although I say, I do not know of 
all their carriages towards me, yet this I know, that the clerk 
of the peace (Mr. Cobb) did discover himself to be one of my 
greatest opposers : for, first he came to my Jailor, and told 
him that I must not go down before the judge, and therefore 
must not be put into the calendar. To whom my Jailor said, 
that my name was in already. He bid him put it out again : 
my Jailor told him that he could not : for he had given the 
judge a calendar with my name in it, and also the sheriff 
another. At which he was very much displeased, and desired 
to see that calendar that was yet in my Jailor's hand, who, 
when he had given it him, he looked on it, and said it was 
a false calendar ; he also took the calendar and blotted out my 
accusation, as my Jailor had written it. (Which accusation 
I cannot tell what it was, because it was so blotted out.) And 
he himself put in words to this purpose : ' That John Bunyan 
was committed to prison ; being lawfully convicted for uphold, 
ing of unlawful meetings and conventicles, &c.' But yet for 
all this, fearing that what he had done, unless he added thereto, 
it would not do, he first ran to the clerk of the assizes ; then 
to the justices, and afterwards, because he would not leave any 
means unattempted to hinder me, he came again to my Jailor, 
and told him, that if I did go down before the judge, and 



310 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

was released, he would make him pay my fees, which he said 
was due to him ; and further, told him, that he would com- 
plain of him at the next quarter-sessions for making of false 
calendars, though my Jailor himself, as I afterwards learned, 
had put in my accusation worse than in itself it was by far. 
And thus was I hindered and prevented at that time also from 
appearing before the judge : and left in prison. Farewell. 
John Bunyan." 

This was a long farewell to Liberty ! For seven years from 
this time, there is no account of him in the Church Book at 
Bedford. That, indeed, would not be proof that he was never 
present at any of the Church Meetings : because prudence 
required that no record of his presence should appear upon 
the minutes. There is, however, no reason to suppose that 
he was ever permitted to go beyond his prison walls once, 
during seven years. And, be it remembered, Bedford Jail 
stood then upon the Bridge ; and thus he had not even a yard 
or court within the walls to walk in for air or exercise. The 
late Mr. Parry, of Wymondly College, hardly exaggerated, 
therefore, when he drew the following touching picture of 
Bunyan's imprisonment. It is not altogether true : but alas, 
it is only too true ! « Look into that damp and dreary cell, 
through the narrow chink, which admits a few scanty rays of 
light, to render visible to the wretched his abode of woe. Be- 
hold, by the glimmering of that feeble lamp, a prisoner, pale 
and emaciated, seated on the humid earth, and pursuing his daily 
task, to earn the morsel which prolongs his existence and con- 
finement together. Near him, reclined in pensive sadness, 
lies a hlind daughter, compelled to eat the bread of affliction 
from the hard earning of an imprisoned father ! Paternal 
affection binds her to his heart, and filial gratitude has long 
made her the daily companion of his captivity. No other 
solace remains to him, save the mournful one arising from the 
occasional visits of five other distressed children, and an affec- 
tionate wife, whom pinching want and grief have worn down 
to the gate of death. More than ten summers' suns have 
rolled over the stone-roofed mansion of his misery, whose re- 
viving rays have never once penetrated his sad abode. ' Sea- 
sons return,' but not to him returns the cheering light of day, 
the smihng bloom of spring, or sound of human joy ! Unfor- 
tunate captive ! What is his guilt, what his crimes ? Is he 
a traitor, or a parricide ? A lewd adulterer, or a vile incen- 
diary ? No, he is a Christian sufferer! Under all his calam-. 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 311 

ities peace reigns in his breast, heavenly hope glistens in his 
eye, and patience sits throned on his pallid cheek. He is 
none other than honest John Bunyan, languishing through the 
twelfth year of his imprisonment in Bedford Jail for teaching 
plain country people the knowledge of the Scriptures and the 
practice of virtue ! — It requires the energy of Fox, the elo- 
quence of Burke, and the pathos of Sheridan, to paint the 
effect of such a scene on the feelings of Humanity. My 
feeble pen drops from the task, and leaves sensibility to endure 
those sensations of compassion and sorrow, which it fails to 
describe." — Parry^s Pamphlets on Tests. 

This, if overcoloured, is not overdrawn. I venture to say 
the same of a painting by Harvey, in the possession of Mr. 
Moon ; which will, I hope, be speedily engraved. It is a noble 
composition ! Like Bunyan himself, it is equally original and 
natural ; sublime and simple. Once seen, it can never be 
forgotten. It may be somewhat criticized, when it appears, 
by some of my readers ; but none of them, nor any one else, 
will find fault with it. A reduced Engraving from it, ought 
to be the frontispiece of all future Editions of the Pilgrim's 
Progress, 



312 LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 



: CHAPTER XXX. 

BUNYAN AND THE BAPTISTS. 

Both the world and the Church are indebted to the Baptists 
for the ministry of John Bunyan. But for them, he might 
have "Hved and died a tinker." — Southey. 

Bunyan himself, however, was not much indebted to them as 
a body. Individual Ministers and Churches did much for him 
and his family, and the Calvinistic section of the body duly 
appreciated his orthodoxy ; But neither the General nor the 
Particular Baptists cared much about him. Both abetted some 
of their chief men in lessening his fame and influence. Well 
might Dr. Southey say, "They neither judged nor spoke so 
charitably of him (as he did of them.) They called him a 
Machiavelian, a man devilish, proud, insolent, and presump- 
tuous. Some compared him to the devil ; others to a Bed- 
lamite ; others to a sot ; and they sneered at his low origin, 
and the base occupation from which he had risen." — LifCf 
p. 76. 

This is only too true. He was thus attacked by Kiffin and 
Denne, for advocating and preaching Open Communion. 
Jessey was not, however, as Dr. Southey states, one of " the 
eminent Baptists who attacked him" for this. Henry Jessey 
was both the champion and exemplar of Free Communion, and 
(from all I can judge) one of Bunyan's best friends. His 
" JuDGME^T" on this question. " was never answered" by the 
strict Baptists, Bunyan says. — Works, p. 1204. 

Bunyan's adherence and attachment to the Baptists, not- 
withstanding the attacks made upon him, do him great credit. 
He was also a loser by identifying himself with their name 
and cause, at the restoration : but he never flinched nor re- 
pented. And in this, he only did them justice. Their cause 
was good, and their name bad only by misrepresentation. Mil- 
ton's and Locke's excepted, there are not nobler appeals on 
behalf of Toleration, in our annals, than some of those which 
the Baptists made to the throne and the nation. Even their 



LIFE OP BUNYAN-o 318 

Letter to Charles II., in 1657, when he was at Bruges, al- 
though somewhat fulsome in its compliments to both his father 
and himself, and unjust to Cromwell, closes with propositions 
to the King, which no flatterer or temporizer would have 
dared to make. They call upon him to pledge his royal word, 
** that he will never erect, nor allow to be erected, any such 
tyi-annical, popish and anti-christian Hierarchy (Episcopalian, 
Presbyterian, or by what name soever called) as shall assume 
a power over, or impose a yoke upon, the consciences of 
others : but that every one of his subjects should be at liberty 
to worship God in such a way, as shall appear to them agree- 
able to the mind and will of Christ." — Clarendon, vol. iii. 
p. 359. 

They plead also, and all but protest, against being " com- 
pelled to contribute to the maintenance of that which is called 
the National ministr)^," and tell the King bluntly that " the 
whole nation, as well as the people of God, groans under the 
exaction of tithes." They conclude, by imploring "an am- 
nesty for all godly persons who may have committed any trea- 
son or offence, since the beginning of the unhappy wars ; ex- 
cepting only such as do adhere to that Ugly Tyrant, who calls 
himself protector." Clarendon, as might be expected, calls 
these points, " extravagant propositions :" but he honestly 
records them ; and not the less willingly, because of the fol- 
lowing tirade against Cromwell : " We have been cheated, 
cozened and betrayed by that grand Impostor, — that loathsome 
Hypocrite, — that detestable Traitor, — that prodigy of Nature, 
— that opprobrium of Mankind, — that landskip of Iniquity, — 
that sink of Sin, who now calls himself our Protector !" This 
torrent of abuse 

" Out-Herods Herod !" 

It is not, however, inexplicable. The Baptists, like others, 
were tired of Cromwell. He had never been able to do much 
for them, and now they expected nothing from him : for they 
had begun to intrigue with the Royalists for the restoration of 
the King, and had thus every reason to fear that they would 
be found out by the vigilant Protector. As they had, there- 
fore, to humble themselves, and to pay court, somewhere, for 
their own safety, they abused both Cromwell and themselves, 
in equally strong language, in their private Letter to the King. 
— Crosby'' s Appendix. 
27 



814 LIFEOPBUNYAN. 

Bunyan was not of sufficient importance in 1657, to be 
applied to in this business. He was then a Minister and had 
been indicted for preaching at Eaton : but his influence was 
not begun. Even if it had, he would hardly have joined in 
such sweeping abuse of Cromwell. Not, however, that he 
admired him ; but he was too little of a politician, and too 
much a philosopher to malign any one. Bishop Fowler would 
not have said so, I am aware. But although Bunyan handled 
him too roughly, there was no spite in the hard blows. 

Bunyan was placed in a dilemma at the Restoration, when 
the great body of the Calvinistic Baptists published their De- 
claration of Faith, " to inform all men of their innocent belief 
and practice in these days of scandal and reproach, when they 
were falsely called Anabaptists." This Declaration was 
" owned and approved by more than 20,000" persons. It does 
not appear, however, that Bunyan was one of the number, al- 
though there be nothing in the theology or the politics of the 
document which he could not have signed. It was signed, 
Henry Adis says, by some of the General Baptists, on public 
grounds. It contained, however, a clause which, though softly 
worded, was sharply meant, and thus abhorrent to Bunyan. 
Baptism by dipping is, it says, " the right and only way of 
gathering Churches !" " All such as preach not this doctrine, 
we utterly deny ; forasmuch as we are commanded to have 
no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness, but rather 
to reprove them." — Article XL There is more in the letter 
of this article than I have quoted : but this is the spirit of it. 
It was, therefore, a public protest, in fact, against the Open 
Communion Churches with which Bunyan was identified, 
as well as against " all those wicked and devilish reports false- 
ly cast upon" the Body, " as though they would cut the throats 
of those who were not like minded in matters of religion" with 
themselves. 

The authors of this Protest did not see the bearings of it. 
Bunyan and his party, however, felt the consequences of it. 
It placed them, though unintentionally, where other Protests 
had placed the Fifth Monarchy Baptists ; out of the pale of the 
Associated Churches. This was a serious matter then. The 
best of their Churches had but a bad name, when Venner's 
insurrection took place ; and thus, the churches which they 
did not own come in for a worse. 

This is both a difficult and delicate subject to touch. 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 315 

Nothing, certainly, was farther from the design of the men 
who led on the general Body, than to imply, even, that the 
Churches or Ministers who held Open Communion, held any 
disloyal or disorganizing opinions. They did not, however, 
fraternize with them, nor own them. They did not stand 
aloof from them exactly as they did from Henry Adis's Free 
Willers, nor at all for the same reasons : but still, they had no 
fellowship with them ; and hence, Bunyan was suspected of 
some connexion with the Fifth Monarchy men, when he was 
discovered in London among the liberal Baptists. This view 
of the case has never been taken, that I know of; and I am 
not sure that it can be fully sustained. It is, however, forced 
upon me by the light in which the Protests of the general 
Body placed, " The small Society of baptized believers, under- 
going the name of the Free Willers, about the city of Lon- 
don." Henry Adis, Richard Pilgrim, and William Cox, "in 
behalf of themselves, and those who walk with them," say, that 
they were more suspected and persecuted than others. They 
seem to have been high Millenarians ; and thus the Protests 
against " certain views of the personal reign of Christ on earth," 
although not aimed at them by the Writers, were applied to 
them by the magistrates. And the severity of Bunyan's im- 
prisonment, seems to have arisen from a similar cause. He 
was not identified with the great body of his brethren, and 
thus he was even more suspected by the Church and the State 
than the generality of them. 

Whatever truth there may be in this view of the matter, will 
not be altered in its power or position by the fact, that the 
Baptist Body condemned, by their declaration, all Churches, 
in common with that of Bunyan. This is true. But it is 
equally true at this time, that their condemnation of all but 
Baptist Churches went for nothing. Their condemnation of 
other Churches passed for praise : whereas, in excepting any 
of their own order, they subjected them, however undesignedly, 
to unusual suspicion : for as all Baptists were then deemed Ana- 
baptists, it was readily supposed that disowned Baptists de- 
served the name. Neither, indeed, deserved it. It was a 
mere and vile calumny. But thus it was perpetuated. Ac- 
cordingly, Jessey was twice arrested and imprisoned at this 
time. His name, like Bunyan's, was not appended to the 
Declaration of Faith ; and thus he too felt the consequences of 
not being recognized by the Body. 

These, to say the least, are singular coincidences, even 



316 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

if they do not prove that the Protests against the name 
Anabaptist created suspicion against those who did not sign 
them. It is also a curious fact, that Bunyan had so little 
fear, or care, about the name, that he applies it to the whole 
Body, just as he does the titles Episcopalian, Presbyterian, 
and Independent, to other Bodies. — Works, vol. iii. p. 1403. 

But if Bunyan sustained some accidental injury from the 
circumstance, that the vindications of themselves, issued by 
the General Body, left those who did not belong to it, to all 
the jealousy of the times, he derived much benefit from the 
noble example of fortitude and patience, which Keach and 
and Kiffen, Knollys and Vavaser Powel, exhibited. He did 
not, indeed, see Keach in the pillory, nor Kiffen at the bar, nor 
KnoUys haled through the streets, nor Dagnall under sentence 
of death, — nor the equally noble sight of Brandon of Ayles- 
bury returning, with tears for his momentary recantation, to 
share DagnalFs sentence if necessary; but he heard of ali 
this, and caught the inspiration of it, and stood prepared to 
imitate them all, if called upon to endure more than bonds. 
Bunyan could forgive Kiffen any thing ; he admired him so 
much for his prudence and heroism. " I forgive Mr. Kiffen," 
he says, "and love him never the worse, for what he hath 
done in the matter of those unhandsome brands that my Bre- 
thren have laid upon me, for saying that the Church of Christ 
hath not warrant to keep out of her Communion a visible 
saint." One reason of this disinterested love was, that KifTea 
by his influence with the Chancellor, had obtained a reprieve 
for ten men and two women, who were sentenced to death 
at Aylesbury for mere nonconformity. — Croshy, vol. ii. p, 
184. 

Keach also stood deservedly high in Bunyan's estimation, 
although he had often laid "The Axe to the Root" (as he 
thought) of the Open Communion system. This, Bunyan 
forgot, as he did the abortive attempts of the good old Tro- 
pologist to allegorize, and thought only of his martyr-spi- 
rit at the pillory. No wonder that this commended itself to a 
spirit of the same order ! A fainter spirit than Bunyan's 
glows and glories to hear Keach say to his weeping friends, 
as they followed him to the Pillory, in Aylesbury, " The Cross 
is the way to the Crown." Crosby says, (and he had the nar- 
rative of a witness to copy from) that « His head and hands 
were no sooner fixed in the Pillory, than he began to address 
himself to the spectators thus : < Good people, I am not 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 317 

ashamed to stand here this day, with this Paper on my head ; 
my Lord was not ashamed to suffer on the Cross. Take no- 
tice, — it is not for any wickedness that I stand here ; but for 
writing and pubhshing His truths.' 

" After he had stood sometime silent, getting one of his 
hands at Hberty, he pulled his Bible out of his pocket, and 
held it up to the people saying, 'The things for which I am a 
spectacle to men and angels this day, are all contained in this 
book, as I could prove out of the same, if I had an opportuni- 
ty.' At this, the Jailor interrupted him, and with great anger 
inquired who gave him the book ? Some said, his wife. She 
was near him, and frequently spoke in vindication of her hus- 
band, and the principles for which he suffered. But Mr. 
Keach replied, that he took it out of his own pocket. Upon 
this the Jailor took it from him, and fastened up his hand again* 
and told him he must not speak. But it was almost impossi- 
ble to keep him from speaking. The Sheriff came in a great 
rage, and said he should be gagged, if he would not be silent." 
— Crosby, vol. ii. p. 206. 

Even after this, he ventured to speak again. At last, find- 
ing it was of no use to try more, he stood in silence until his 
two hours were completed ; or only uttering the words, 
" Blessed are they who are persecuted for righteousness' sake ; 
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." When the full time of 
his sentence was expired, the Underkeeper lifted up the board ; 
and soon as his head and hands were at liberty, he blessed God 
with a loud voice for his great goodness to him. This pillory- 
ing was repeated next week at Winslow, with the additional 
outrage of iDurning the Book for which he was condemned, be- 
fore his eyes. This obnoxious Book was, "The Child's In- 
structor, or a new and easy Primer ;" but it denied Infant 
Baptism, and Ecclesiastical Domination. It also taught the 
Personal Reign of Christ on earth, just as the prophetic party 
in the Church do now ! 

After a laborious life, and many sufferings, Mr. Keach died 
in peace at home. His noble-minded wife did not long sur- 
vive the scenes of the pillory. She sank in the 31st year of 
her age. Her resemblance to Bunyan's Elizabeth was, no 
doubt, one reason of his veneration for her husband. 

I am not conjecturing, in thus ascribing to the example of 

his suffering Brethren, some of Bunyan's fortitude in prison. 

His Works are full of proofs, that he knew well what they 

were enduring, and felt deeply the inspiration of their magna- 

27* 



318 LIFE OF BUNYAN« 

nimity. Not that his Baptist Brethren alone had this influence 
upon his spirit. All sufferers for conscience' sake were dear 
to him ; and hence he grouped them in his kind appeals to 
them. And his appeals had weight, after the publication of 
his Pilgrim. That Book opened many hearts to him amongst 
the Strict Baptists, although it relaxed none of their strictness. 
Christian, Faithful, and Hopeful were admitted into full com- 
munion in all their Churches, although John Bunyan was shut 
out. 



LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 319 



CHAPTER XXXI. 

bunyan's prison sermon. 

BuNYAN little dreamt, glorious dreamer as he was, that his 
prison would one day give the philanthropy of Howard both 
an impulse and a direction, which should improve all the 
prisons of Europe. It was, however, the old Jail on Bedford 
Bridge, which was almost damp enough to make " the moss 
grow upon tlie eyebrows" of the prisoners, that fully awoke 
Howard to his great enterprise. His first act, when appoint- 
ed High Sheriff of the county, was to improve the Jail. And 
it derogates nothing from the purity of his motives, or from 
the catholicity of his spirit, or from the splendour of his fame, 
to proclaim the fact, that his principles as a Dissenter height, 
ened all his sympathies as a man and a Christian. Had 
Bunyan never been in Bedford Jail, nor Howard been a non- 
conformist, that Jail would indeed have been improved ; but 
not so promptly, nor with such a bearing upon the prison- 
houses of the world. 

Howard's strong sympathies with Bunyan's principles, 
naturally expanded into universal philanthropy. For although 
no character could be more unlike Bunyan's, than that of 
prisoners in general, the vei-y contrast gave power to pity : 
because if a holy prisoner, with a good conscience and a hope 
full of immortality, was yet a sad man often, and at times 
ready to sink, what wretched men must guilty and ungodly 
prisoners be ! This was the line of Howard's logic ! 

It is well known that Bunyan was not idle in prison. It is 
not, however, every one who knows the number and the names 
of the Books he wrote in Jail, that has an acquaintance with 
either their origin or progress. None of his biographers have 
led us into his cell, or enabled us to see him musing, writing, 
or expounding. Indeed, it was long before I could find out 
enough of the Chronology of his works to obtain vivid or de- 
finite glimpses of the student or the study. I have often 



320 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

wished that Howard had not pulled down the old Jail ; just 
that we might have seen and shown how Bunyan sat at his 
table — and how the light fell upon his Bible and papers — and 
what room he had for walking when his limbs ached with sit- 
ting — and whether the fire-place was smoky — and how far his 
bed was out of the draught. Biography is as tedious to write, 
as it is to read, when we cannot get thus to a man's side, and 
peep at all his circumstances. It will not, however, be for 
want of trying to do so, that I shall fail to give life to my 
picture. 

Bunyan's first deep thoughts in prison, so far as they did 
not regard himself and his family, were peculiar, and came 
very unexpectedly upon him. One Sabbath, when it was his 
turn to expound the Scriptures to his fellow prisoners, he found 
himself " so empty, spiritless, and barren," that he verily 
thought he could not speak five words of edifying truth, with 
either " life or evidence." But it was his turn ; and he had no 
alternative ; for his brethren and companions in tribulation for 
the kingdom of God, " expected to be refreshed" by him. 
" Providentially it so fell out at last," he says, " that I cast my 
eye upon the 11th verse of the 20th Chapter of the Revela- 
tions : upon which when I had considered awhile, methought 
I perceived something of the Jasper in whose light you there 
find that this Holy City is said to come and descend. Where- 
fore, having got in my eye some dim glimmerings thereof, and 
finding in my heart a desire to see further thereinto, I with a 
few groans did carry my meditations to the Lord Jesus for a 
blessing, which he did forthwith grant according to his grace." 
Such was the origin of his Holy City. That work is 
often called " The Holy City's Resurrection :" but Bunyan 
does not give it that title in the first Edition ; which is now 
before me. I have already hinted that it was a favourite with 
him, because it burst upon him unexpectedly, and flowed from 
long cherished recollections of sick-bed meditations. Accord- 
ingly, he dedicated it to " four sorts of readers." The fourth 
epistle is addressed to " The Mother of Harlots," thus ; " Mis- 
tress, I suppose I have nothing here, that will either please your 
wanton eye, or go down with your voluptuous palate. Here 
is bread indeed, as also milk and wheat : but here is neither 
paint to adorn thy wrinkled face, nor crutch to uphold or un- 
dershore thy shaking, tottering, staggering kingdom of Rome ; 
but rather a certain presage of thy sudden and fearful final 
downfall ; and of the exaltation of that Holy Matron whose 



LIFE OF RUN Y AN. 321 

chastity thou dost abhor, because by it she reproveth and con- 
demneth thy lewd and stubborn life. Wherefore, Lady, — 
smell thou mayst of this ; but taste thou wilt not. Thou wilt 
at the sight of so homely a dish as this, snuff, and cry ' Foh f — 
put the branch to the nose, and say ' Contemptible !' But 
Wisdom is justified of all her children. The Virgin daughter 
of Zion hath despised thee and laughed thee to scorn ; Jeru- 
salem hath shaken her head at thee ; yea, her God hath smit- 
ten his hands at thy dishonest gains and freaks." 

This " homely dish," as Bunyan calls the Treatise, must 
have made his fellow prisoners turn up their eyes in wonder, 
whether it made the Scarlet Lady turn up her nose in disgust 
or not. It is really an amazing Commentary, and must have 
had an electrical effect upon his companions. Even the 
scholars and theologians amongst them, must have felt that 
they had no such knowledge of the letter of Scripture, and no 
such power of assimilating and combining scriptural facts and 
fi^gures. For in none of his works has Bunyan shown such an 
acquaintance with the language of the Bible ; or such dexter- 
ity in harmonizing Old Testament types with New Testament 
symbols, in the interpretation of prophecy. The old and new 
imagery of Revelation, almost ceases to be mystical in his 
hands, and becomes as intelligible as ordinary words. It is, of 
course, impossible to illustrate this here. It would, however, 
be wrong not to mention the fact. No reader of the " Holy 
City" may agree with Bunyan's theory of Apocalyptic 
visions ; but every reader of it must feel, with all the force of 
a sensation, that he never saw the man who had such com- 
mand over sacred phraseology. It was well that Bunyan had 
no Millenarian vagaries ; for with his power over the harp of 
prophecy, he would have been a bewitching minstrel in the 
Vatican of that School. 

Bunyan's friends did not forget him when he became a 
prisoner. Some of them visited him, and others remembered 
his bonds as if they had been bound with him. He felt their 
kindness ; and as the least suspicious mode of answering the 
Letters he received, he published a poetical Epistle, dedicated 
to " The Heart of Sufferino; Saints and Reigning Sinners." 
There are some verses of this poem deserve preservation ; 
especially as we have so few specimens of Bunyan's corres- 
pondence. 



322 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

" Friend, I salute thee in the Lord, 
And wish thou may'st abound 
In faith, and have a good regard 
To keep on holy ground. 
Thou dost encourage me to hold 
My head above the flood ; 
Thy counsel better is than gold, 
In need thereof I stood ! 

*' I take it kindly at thy hand. 
Thou didst unto me write! 
My feet upon Mount Zion stand — 
In that — is my delight. 
I am indeed in prison now, 
In body ; but my mind 
Is free to study Christ, and how 
Unto me He is kind. 

" For though men keep my outward man 
Within their bolts and bars ; 
Yet by the faith of Christ I can 
Mount higher than the stars. 
Their fetters cannot spirits tame. 
Nor tie up God from me, — 
My faith and hope they cannot lame : 
Above them I shall be» 

" I here am very much refreshed 
To think — 'When I was out, 
I preached life, and peace, and rest, 
To sinners round about.' 
My business then was souls to save, 
By preaching grace and faith : 
Of which the comfort noio I have, 
And shall have unto death. 

•' Alas, they little think what peace 
They help me to : for by 
Their rage, my comforts do increase — 
Bless God, therefore, do I ! 
Though they say, then, that we are fools, 
Because we here do lie, 
I answer, jails are Jesus' schools ; 
In them we learn to die. 

*"T is not the baseness of this state 
Doth hide from us God's face : 
He frequently, both soon and late, 
Doth visit us with grace. 
Here come the angels, here come saints, 
Here comes the Spirit of God, 
To comfort us in our restraints 
Under the wicked's rod. 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 32 3 

" To them that here for evil lie, 
This place is comfortless : 
But not to me, because that I 
Suffer for righteousness. 
The Truth and I were both here cast 
TogeUier ; and we do 
Lie arm m arm, and so hold fast 
Each other. This is true I 

" This jail to us is as a hill, 
From whence we plainly see 
Beyond this world, and take our fill 
Of things that tasting be. 
We change our drossy dust for gold ; 
From death to life we fly. 
We let go shadows, and take hold 
Of immortality. 

" That liberty we lose for Him, 
Sickness might take away. 
Our goods might also, for our sin, 
By fire or thieves decay. 
Who now dare say, we throw away 
Our goods or liberty ? 
When God's most Holy Word doth say, 
We gain thus much thereby. 

"Hark yet again, ye carnal men, 
And hear what 1 shall say 
In your oion dialect, and then 
1 '11 you no longer stay ! 
Though you. dare crack a coward's crown, 
Or quarrel for a pin. 
You dare not on the wicked frown, 
Nor speak against their sin. 

" Know, then, true valour there doth dwell, 
Where men engage for God, 
Against the Devil, Death, and Hell, 
And bear the wicked's rod. 
These be the men that God doth count 
Of high and noble mind : 
These be the men that do surmount 
What you in nature find. 

Works, vol iii. p. 1477. 

This "lights us deep" into the cast of Bunyan's musino-s in 
prison. They were not, however, always thus bold, or bright. 
But, bright or dark, he has told them with equal frankness, 
and for a noble purpose. There is nothing finer, either in 
sentiment or language, in any writer, than his application of 
David's words, on contributing to the building of the temple, 



324 L I F E O F B U N Y A N. 

to his own legacy to the church : — " Many more of the divine 
deahngs towards me (in prison) I might relate : but these, out 
of the SPOILS won in battle, have I dedicated to maintain the 
house of God." These spoils, happily, remain for the use of 
the church. " I have continued with much content, through 
grace," he says, " in prison : but have met with many turnings 
and goings upon my heart, both from the Lord, Satan, and my 
own corruptions. By all which — Glory be to Jesus ! — I have 
also received, among many things, much conviction, instruc- 
tion, and understanding : of which, at large, I shall not here 
discourse : only give you a hint or two ; a word that may stir 
up the godly to bless God, and to pray for me ; and also to 
take encouragement, should the case be their own, ' Not to 
fear what man can do unto them.' 

" I never had, in all my life, so great an inlet into the word 
of God as now : those scriptures that I saw nothing in before, 
were made, in this place and state, to shine upon me ; Jesus 
Christ also was never more real and apparent than now ; here 
I have seen and felt him indeed. Oh ! that word, ' We have 
not preached unto yoa cunningly devised fables ;' and that, 
* God raised Christ from the dead, and gave him glory, that 
our faith and hope might be in God,' were blessed words unto 
me in this my imprisoned condition. 

" These three or four scriptures, also, have been great re- 
freshments in this condition to me : ' Let not your heart be 
troubled ; ye believe in God, believe also in me. — In my Fa- 
ther's house are many mansions ; if it were not so, I would 
have told you.- — I go to prepare a place for you. — And if I go 
and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you 
to myself, that where I am there ye may be also. — And whither 
I go ye know, and the way ye know. — These things I have 
spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. — In the 
world ye shall have tribulation, but be of good cheer, I have 
overcome the world. — For ye are dead, and your life is hid 
with Christ in God ; when Christ, who is our life, shall appear, 
then shall ye also appear with him in glory. — But ye are 
come to Mount Zion, and unto the city of the living God, the 
heavenly Jerusalem, and to an innumerable company of angels. 
To the general assembly and church of the first-born which 
are written in heaven, and to God the Judge of all ; and to 
the spirits of just men made perfect ; and to the blood of 
sprinkling, that speaketh better things than that of Abel.' — 
So that sometimes, when I have enjoyed the savour of them, 1 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 325 

have been able to ' laugh at destruction,' and to fear neither 
the horse nor his rider. I have had sweet sights of the for- 
giveness of my sins in this place, and of my being vi^ith Jesus 
in another world. Oh ! < the Mount Sion, the heavenly Jeru- 
salem, the innumerable company of angels, and God the Judge 
of all, and the spirits of just men made perfect,' and Jesus, have 
been sweet unto me in this place : I have seen that here, that 
I am persuaded I shall never, while in this world, be able to 
express. I have seen a truth in this scripture, ' Whom, having 
not seen, ye love ; in whom, though now you see him not, yet 
believing, ye rejoice with joy unspeakable, and full of glory.' 

" I never knew what it was for God to stand by me at all 
turns, and at every offer of Satan to afflict me, as I have found 
him since I came in hither: for look, however fears have pre- 
sented themselves, so have supports and encouragements ; yea, 
when I have started, even as it were, at nothing else but my 
shadow, yet God, as being very tender of me, hath not suffered 
me to be molested, but would, with one scripture or another, 
strengthen me against all ; insomuch that I have often said. 
Were it lawful, I could pray ^oy greater trouble, for the greater 
comfort's sake. ' Consider the work of God, for who can 
make that straight which he hath made crooked ? In the day 
of prosperity be joyful, but in the day of adversity consider. 
God also hath set the one over against the other, to the end 
that man should find nothing after him. For as the sufferings 
of Christ abound in us, so our consolation also aboundeth in 
Christ.' 

" Before I came to prison, I saw what was coming, and had 
especially two considerations warm upon my heart ; the first 
was, how to be able to encounter death, should that be here 
my portion. For the first of these, that scripture was great 
information to me, namely, to pray to God < to be strengthen, 
ed with all might, according to his glorious power, unto all 
patience and long suffering with joy fulness.' I could seldom 
go to prayer before I was imprisoned, for not so little as a 
year together, but this sentence, or sweet petition, would, as 
it were, thrust itself into my mind, and persuade, me that if 
ever I would go through long-sui^ering, I must have patience, 
especially if I would endure it joyfully. 

" As to the second consideration, that saying was of great 

use to me, ' But we had the sentence of death in ourselves, 

that we might not trust in ourselves but in God that raiseth 

the dead.' By this scripture 1 was made to see, That if ever 

28 



326 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

I would suffer rightly, I must first pass a sentence of death 
upon every thing that can properly be called a thing of this life, 
] even to reckon myself, my wife, my children, my health, 
my enjoyments, and all as dead to me, and myself as dead to 
them. 

" The second was to live upon God that is invisible, as Paul 
said in another place ; the way not to faint is, 'To look not on 
things that are seen, but at the things that are not seen ; for 
the things that are seen are temporal, but the things that are 
not seen are eternal.' And thus I reasoned with mycelf, If I 
provide ojily for a prison, then the whip comes at unawares, 
and so doth also the pillory! Again, if I only provide for 
these, then I am not fit for banishment. Further, if I con- 
clude that banishment is the worst, then if death comes, I am 
surprised : so that I see, the best way to go through sufferings, 
is to trust in God through Christ, as touching the world to 
come ; and as touching this world, ' to count the grave my 
house, to make my bed in darkness ; to say to corruption, 
Thou art my father, and to the worm. Thou art my mother 
and sister :' that is, to familiarize these things to me. 

" But notwithstanding these helps, I found myself a man 
encompassed with infirmities ; the parting with my wife and 
poor children, hath often been to me in this place, as the pull- 
ing the flesh from my bones ; and that not only because I am 
somewhat too fond of these great mercies, but also because I 
should have often brought to my mind the many hardships, 
miseries, and wants that my poor family was like to meet with, 
should I be taken from them ; — especially my poor blind child, 
who lay nearer my heart than all beside : Oh ! the thoughts of 
the hardship I thought my poor blind one might go under, 
would break my heart to pieces. 

" Poor child ! thought I, what sorrow art thou like to have 
for thy portion in this world ? Thou must be beaten, must 
beg, suffer hunger, cold, nakedness, and a thousand calamities, 
though I cannot now endure the wind should blow upon thee ! 
But yet recalling myself, thought I, I must venture you all 
with God, though it goeth to the quick to leave you. Oh ! I 
saw in this condition, that I was as a man who was pulling 
down his house upon the head of his wife and children ; yet, 
thought I, — I must do it, — I must do it ! And now I thought 
on those ' two milch kine that were to carry the ark of God 
into another country, and to leave their calves behind them.' 

" But that which helped me in this temptation, were divers 



1 



^* LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 327 

considerations, of which three in special here I will name : 
The first was the consideration of these two scriptures, < Leave 
thy fatherless children, I will preserve them alive, and let thy 
widows trust in me :' and again, ' The Lord said, Verily it 
shall go well with thy remnant ; verily, I will cause the ene- 
my to entreat them well in the time of evil, and in time of af- 
fliction.' 

" I had also this consideration, that if I should venture all 
for God, I engaged God to take care of my concernments : but 
if I forsook him in his ways, for fear of any trouble that should 
come to me or mine, then I should not only falsify my profes- 
sion, but should count also that my concernments were not so 
sure, as if left at God's feet, whilst I stood to and for his name, 
as they would be if they were under my own care, though with 
the denial of the way of God. This was a smarting considera- 
tion, and as spurs unto my flesh. That scripture also great- 
ly helped it to fasten the more upon me, where Christ prays 
against Judas, that God would disappoint him in his selfish 
thoughts, which moved him to sell his master. Pray read it 
soberly ! * Set thou a wicked man over him, and _let Satan 
stand at his right ha^d. When he shall jje judged let him be 
condemned, and let his prayer become sin : Let his days be 
few, and let another take his office : Let his children be fa- 
therless, and his wife a widow : Let his children be continually 
vagabonds and beg ; let them seek their bread also out of their 
desolate places, &c. Because that he remembered not to show 
mercy, but persecuted the poor and needy man that he might 
even slay the broken in heart.' 

« I had also another consideration, and that was, the dread 
of the torments of hell, which I was sure they must partake of, 
that for fear of the cross, do shrink from their profession of 
Christ, his words and laws, before the sons of men. I thought 
also of the glory that he had prepared for those that in faith, 
and love, and patience, stood to his ways before them. These 
things, I say, have helped me, when the thoughts of the mise- 
ry that both myself and mine, might for the sake of my pro- 
fession be exposed io, hath lain pinching on my mind. 

" When I have indeed conceited that I might be banished 
for my profession, then I have thought of that scripture, * they 
were stoned, they were sawn asunder, were tempted, were 
slain with the sword, they wandered about in sheep-skins, and 
goat skins, being destitute, afflicted, tormented, of whom the 
world was not worthy,' (for all they thought they were too 



328 LIFE OF BUNYA N. ^ 

bad to dwell and abide amongst them.) I have also thought 
of that saying, ' the Holy Ghost witnessth in every city, that 
bonds and afflictions abide me.' I have verily thought that 
my soul and it have sometimes reasoned about the sore and 
sad estate of a banished and exiled condition : how they 
were exposed to hunger, to cold, to perils, to nakedness, to 
enemies, and a thousand calamities ; and at last may be, to 
die in a ditch, like a poor and desolate sheep. But I thank 
God, hitherto I have not been moved by these most delicate 
reasonings, but have rather, by them, more approved my heart 
to God. 

" I will tell you a 'pretty business : I was once, above all the 
rest, in a very sad and low condition for many weeks ; at which 
time also, I being but a young prisoner, and not acquainted 
with the laws, I had this lying much upon my spirits, ^ that 
my imprisonment might end at the gallows for aught that I 
could tell.' Now therefore Satan laid hard at me, to beat me 
out of heart, by suggesting thus unto me : ' but how if, when 
you come indeed to die, you should be in this condition ; that 
is, as not to savour the things of God, nor to have any evi- 
dence upon your soul for a better state hereafter V (for in- 
deed at that time all the things of God were hid from my 
soul.) 

" Wherefore, when I at first began to think of this, it was a 
great trouble to me ; for I thought with myself, that in the 
condition I now was, I was not fit to die, neither indeed did I 
think I could, if I should be called to it ; besides, I thought 
with myself, if I should make a scrambling shift to clamber up 
the ladder, yet 1 should either with quaking, or other symptoms 
of fainting, give occasion to the enemy to reproach the way of 
God and his people for their timorousness. This therefore 
lay with great trouble upon me, for methought I was ashamed to 
die with a pale face, and tottering knees, in such a cause as 
this ! 

" Wherefore I prayed to God that he would comfort me, 
and give me strength to do and suffer what he should call me 
to ; yet no comfort appeared, but all continued hid. I was 
also at this time, so really possessed with the thought of death, 
that oft I was as if I was on the ladder with a rope about my 
neck : only this was some encouragement to me, I thought I 
might now have an opportunity to speak my last words unto a 
multitude, which I thought would come to see me die ; and, 
thought I, if it must be so, if God will but convert one soul by 



i0^ LIFEOFBUNYAN. 329 

my last words, I shall not count my life thrown away, nor 
lost, 

" But yet all the things of God were kept out of my sight, 
and still the tempter followed me with, ' but whither must you 
go when you die ? what will become of you ? where will you 
be found in another world ? what evidence have you for heaven 
and glory, and an inheritance among them that are sanctified ?' 
Thus was I tossed for many weeks, and knew not what to do ; 
at last this consideration fell with weight upon me, — ' that it 
was for the word and way of God that I was in this condition ;* 
wherefore I was engaged not to Jiinch a hair's breadth from it. 

" I thought also, that God might choose whether he would 
give me comfort now, or at the hour of death ; but I might 
not therefore choose whether I would hold my profession or 
no : 1 was bound, but he was free ; yea, it was my duty to 
stand to his word, whether he would ever look upon me or save 
me at the last : wherefore, thought I, the point being thus, I 
am for going on, and venturing my eternal state with Christ, 
whether I have comfort here or no ; if God doth not come in, 
thought I, ' I will leap off the ladder even blindfold into eter- 
nity, — sink or swim, — come heaven, come hell ; Lord Jesus, 
if thou wilt catch me, do ; — if not, I will venture for thy 
name!' 

" I was no sooner fixed in this resolution, but this word 
dropped upon me, ' Doth Job serve God for nought V As if 
the accuser had said, ' Lord, Job is no upright man, he serves 
thee for by-respects : hast thou not made an hedge about him ? 
But put forth now thine hand, and touch all that he hath, and 
he will curse thee to thy face.' How now ! thought I, is this 
the sign of an upright soul, to desire to serve God, when all 
is taken from him ] Is he a godly man that will serve God 
for nothing, rather than give out ! Blessed be God ; then I 
hope I have an upright heart, for I am resolved (God give me 
strength) never to deny my profession, though I have nothing 
at all for my pains. And as I was thus considering, that 
scripture was set before me, ' Thou sellest thy people for 
nought, and dost not increase thy wealth by their price : Thou 
makest us a reproach to our neighbours, a scorn and derision 
to those that are round about us : Thou makest us a by-word 
among the heathen, a shaking of the head among the people : 
My confusion is continually before me, and the shame of my 
face hath covered me : For the voice of him that reproachetii 
and blasphemeth, by the reason of the enemy and avenger : 
28* 



330 LIFEOFBUNYAN. t* 

All this is come upon us, yet have we not forgotten thee , 
neither have we dealt falsely in thy covenant : our heart is 
not turned back, neither have our steps declined from thy 
way, though thou hast sore broken us in the place of dragons, 
and covered us with the shadow of death.' 

" Now was my heart full of comfort, for I hoped it was sin- 
cere. I would not have been without this trial for much. I 
am comforted every time I think of it ; and I hope I shall 
bless God for ever, for the teachings I have had by it. Many 
more of the divine dealings towards me I might relate, ' But 
these out of the spoils won in battle have I dedicated to main- 
tain the house of God.' " 

Bunyan appended to this wonderful document some out- 
lines of another class of thoughts, which render it even more 
wonderful than it appears at first sight. There were times, 
whilst these hopes and fears were chasing each other, when 
Infidelity, as well as darkness, shook him more in prison than 
all the temptations he had ever gone through before. " Of all 
the temptations I ever met with in my life, the worst, and the 
worst to bear, is," he says, " to question the being of God, and 
the truth of the Gospel. When this temptation comes, it 
taketh away my girdle from me, and removeth the foundation 
from under me. O, I have often thought of that word, ' Have 
your loins girt about with Truth ;' and of that, ' If the founda- 
tions be destroyed what can the Righteous do V " 

When I first read this sad account of his struggles in prison, 
I felt anxious to know how he got over the temptation. But 
the document is silent on that subject. It furnishes no clue 
to the means or the processof his victory. He left a clue, how- 
ever, in another Work ; and it is an interesting one, although 
but an incidental remark. In his Commentary on parts of 
Genesis, he says of the Rainbow and the regularity of seed- 
time and harvest, " My Reason tells me they are, and have 
continued a true prophecy; otherwise, the world could not 
have existed : for, take away seed-time and harvest, and an end 
is put to the beginning of the universe. These words were 
some of the first (chief?) that prevailed with me to believe the 
Scriptures to be the Word of God." — Works, vol. iv. p. 2556. 

These Prison Thoughts, although somewhat out of place 
here, will enable the reader to appreciate the Works which 
were written in Jail ; and thus they will be more valuable as 
lights upon them, than as details of Bunyan's experience. 
His hand will be traced with interest, now that his heart is 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 331 

naked and open before us. As experience, however, these de- 
tails are highly instructive, as well as interesting. The 
thorough sifting he now gives to his motives and emotions ; 
to tokens and impulses ; contrasts finely with his early im- 
prudences, when he was the creature of circumstances. What 
he says of Noah, with the olive leaf, may be applied to himself 
now. " Noah was inquisitive and searching as to how the 
dove found it. That is, whether she found it dead on the 
waters, or pluckt it from a tree ? He found by its freshness 
and greenness as a slip, that she had plucked it off. Where- 
fore he had good ground to be comforted now : for the waters 
could not be deep ; especially as the olive tree grows in the 
bottoms or valleys. So we should say of all Signs and 
Visions, either inward or outward, — ' See whether they be 
dead leaves, or plucked from a green tree.' There are lying 
Visions ; — and not a few have cast up all (religion,) because 
the seeming truth of some vision hath failed." — Works, vol. i. 
p. 63. fol. ed. 



3j2 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 



CHAPTER XXXII. 



BUNYANS PRISON AMUSEMENTS. 

Bunyan's chief enjoyment in Prison, next to his high commu- 
nion with God and Heaven, was the composition of his Pil- 
grim's Progress. That Work was the only one of his joys, 
which he allowed neither stranger nor friend to intermeddle 
with. He kept it " a fountain sealed^'' from all his family and 
fellow-prisoners, until it was completed. Dunn, or Wheeler, 
or Coxe, or any other companion, might hear a page, or obtain 
a peep, of any of his other Works, whilst they were planning 
or in progress ; — but the Pilgrim was for no eye nor ear but 
his own, until he " awoke out of his Dream." He never once, 
during all that Dream, ^^ talked in his sleep." 

This fact has never been noticed, so far as I recollect, by 
any of his Biographers or Critics, although he himself states 
it strongly. He says expressly of the Pilgrim's Progress, 

" Manner and matter too were all my own, 
Nor was it unto any Mortal knoicn, 
Till I had done if." 

Preface. 

It was thus, most likely, written whilst his companions were 
fast asleep, or before they got up in the morning. And if so, 
this will partly account for that passionate love of sunrise, and 
his grief at sunset, which runs through his poetry, in the 
" Divine Emblems ; " as well as for his frequent sonnets about 
his Candles, when a fall or a fly injured them. But however 
this may be, his prison amusements, as detailed in this chapter, 
will throw some light upon the process by which he brought 
and kept himself up to the mark, in composing his Pilgrims ; 
as well as show how he lightened all his labour by diversifying 
his pursuits, and humouring the versatility of his mind. 

It is not from conjecture, that I assign to his prison the 
origin of the following specimens of his genius and habits. 
His spiritualizings began to be written there. He took hia 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 333 

turn too in that Exercise, in the Common Room of the Jail. 
And as he had no time to write poetry after he was released 
from prison, his " Divine Emblems" can be traced to no other 
place. Besides, they bear all the marks of the prison-house ; 
and were, most likely, prepared to be sold by his wife and chil- 
dren, along with the Tag-laces upon which their daily bread 
depended for a time. 

Bunyan's amusements in Prison were all literary. He had 
nothing but his pen wherewith to cheat or cheer his sad hours. 
The only thing in the form of a comfort in his cell, apart from 
his Bible, Concordance, and Book of Martyrs, was a Rose- 
Bush ; and of it he was so fond, that it seems to have been 
sent to him as a memorial of old friendship. 

"This homely Bush doth to mine eyes expose, 
A very fair, yea comely, ruddy rose. 
This rose doth always bow its head to me, 
Saying, 'Come pluck me ; I thy rose will be.'" 

But whilst he thus complimented it upon its beauty, and its 
seeming good-will towards him, he also quarrelled with it play- 
fully at times, because it pricked his fingers. 

" Yet, — offer I to gather rose or bud, 
'Tis ten to one, but Bush will have my blood. 
Bush ! — why dost bear a rose, if none must have it ? 
Why thus expose it, yet claw those that crave it ? 
Art become freakish 7 Dost the Wanton play ? 
Or doth thy testy humour tend this way ? 
This looks like a trepan, or a decoy, 
To offer, and yet snap, who would enjoy ! " 

• • Vol. ii. p. 971. 

When Bunyan wrote this, the word trepan had a very em- 
phatic meaning. Trepanners was the name of the Olivers and 
Castles of these times ; and although none of them had tam- 
pered with him, he knew well what Crowther had done, and 
what Evan Price had suffered, in Lancashire. 

Besides his Rose-Bush and Sand-Glass, and a spider he 
became acquainted with at the window, Bunyan had nothing 
to divert his lonely hours, except what he could see upon the 
road or the river, through the iron gratings, on market days. 
Then, he sometimes enjoyed a laugh at the expense of the 
Farmers, 

" There's one rides very sagely on the road ! 
Showing that he jiffects the ^av^st mode. 



334 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

Another rides tantivy, or full trot, 

To show such gravity, he matters not. 

Lo, here comes one amain : he rides full speed : 

Hedge, ditch, or miry bog, he doth not heed. 

One claios it up-hill, without stop or check, 

Another down, as if he'd break his neck. 

Then let us, by the methods of his guider, 

Tell every Horse how he may know his rider." 

Vol. ii. p. 973. 

But the study of Solomon's Temple was Bunyan's chief re- 
laxation : for although his poetry amused him, it also wearied 
him ; because he could not rhyme so fast as he reasoned. 
Spiritualizipg in prose was his hohhyy wKen he had done with 
his hard work. *" 

We have seen enough of Bunyan's "vein" already, in his 
accidental and unconscious allegorizing, to whet our curiosity 
for his deliberate efforts. The man who wrote the Pilgrim and 
the Holy War, in what Montgomery well calls " Allegory so 
perfect as to hide itself like light, whilst revealing through its 
colourless and undistorting medium all beside," was sure to 
place other truths in the same light. Indeed, it was by trying 
his hand often at brief spiritualizations, that he became master 
of lengthened and continuous allegory. He improved him- 
self by amusing himself. 

This has never been sufficiently noticed. It is, however, 
essential to the history of his genius and writings ; and if its 
development bring out some conceit^, both extravagant and 
ludicrous, we should remember whilst we laugh, that he needed 
a hobby, and that the worst and weakest of his conceits may 
be paralleled in the works of liioth the Fathers and the R&. 
formers. It was St. Athanasius, not Bunyan, who found the 
penitent thief of Calvary in Habakkuk's' prophecy, that "the 
beam (the beetle : Septuagint) out of the wall, shall put forth 
a voice." It was St. Bernard, who found the origin of Satan's 
name, Diabolus, in the words ^^duobus bolis," two pockets. 
Bunyan seldom went further than St. Jerome, who found all 
the Christian virtues symbolized in the pontificals of Aaron. 
I need not add, that he never dreamt of applying the prophe- 
cies of the Agony or the Atonement to the martyrdom of 
Charles. He did think, however, that the doors of the Temple 
were made of f,r, because the fir-tree is " the house of the 
Stork ; an unclean bird ; and thus an emblem of sinners, who 
find refuge and rest in the gospel." He had no doubt that 
the ceiling of the temple, as it was studded with precious 



LIFE OP BUN Y AN. 335 

stones, — " here a pearl, and their a diamond ; here a jasper, 
and there a sapphire ; here a sardius, and there a Jacinth ; 
here a sardonyx, and there an amethyst," was an emblem of 
both the diversity and the distribution of the gifts of the Spirit 
in the church. " I verily think," he says, "• that the ten la- 
vers" also, in which the burnt sacrifice was washed, " were a 
figure of the Ten Commandments, by perfect obedience to 
which, Christ became capable of being an acceptable burnt of- 
fering to God, for the sins of the people." 

When Bunyan is not thus quite sure that he has "hit right," 
and yet cannot agree with current interpretation, nor improve 
his own, he grows somewhat snappish as well as humble. 
The thousand charges of silver, and the thirty of gold, in 
which the passover was served, are too numerous and differ- 
ent to be easily paralleled in the Christian Church. He finds 
them, however, in the sacred writers and the sacrament. 
Still, he felt that the numbers did not tally. But he could not 
mend the matter. He, therefore, breaks off, not a little hot as 
well as humble : — saying, " He that will scoff at this, let him 
scoff! The charges are a type o( something : and he that can 
show a fitter antitype than is here proposed, let him do it, and 
I will be thankful to him." Bunyan does not, however, get 
into this humour often. His conjectures were so often inge. 
nious and so uniformly pure, that they seldom awoke a suspicion 
of their truth, in his own mind. The " open flowers," carved 
upon the doors of the Temple, he regarded as certainly 
" carved there, to show that Christ, who is the door of gloiy, 
as well as the door of grace, will be as precious to us when 
we enter the mansion-house of Heaven, as when we took the 
first step" into the Church on earth. " The Palm Trees" also, 
being carved in the Holy Place, as well as upon the doors of 
the Temple were proofs that glory would follow grace : for, he 
argues, " as sure as we receive the palm-branch by faith, we 
shall wear it in our hands in the heaven of heavens for ever." 
In like manner " he had no doubt," that the " gold upon 
gold," which " overlaid'^ all the chief types, proved the same 
point. " Gold spread upon gold !" he exclaims ; " Grace is 
gold in the leaf, and Glory is gold in plates, Grace is thin 
gold : Glory thick gold." 

Ihus there was some sarcasm as well as much compliment 
in Addison's remark, when he called Bunyan as great a Fa- 
ther as any of the Fathers, in the art of spiritualizing. He 
did not, however, say the same of either Wordon's Types Un- 



336 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

veiled, or Keache's Metaphors. Addison felt that Bunyan 
was chaste, even when most fanciful. Bunyan was, however, 
fondest of the finery. Accordingly, whilst he makes a great 
deal of the golden Nails in the Temple, he says, " I shall not 
concern myself with those Nails made with irony Iron nails 
were associated in his mind with his own craft ; and thus not 
very inspiring to him : but he weighed, and almost counted, 
the golden ones. 

His finest guess is, I think, at the reason why the height of 
the Mercy-seat was not to be measured. The length and 
breadth are given, he says, "but the height was without 
measure, to show that, would God extend mercy, it could 
reach anywhere." He is hardly less happy, when he says, 
that the golden chains which divided the Holy Place from the 
Holy of Holies, were real chains, to show us that even in 
Heaven there will be a distinction, or, " an infinite dispropor- 
tion, between the creature and the Creator for ever. The 
partition made in this House by these glorious chains, was 
not so much to divide the holy place from the most holy, as 
to show that there is in the Holiest House, that which is still 
more worthy than it. True, they are in chains of gold ; but 
even these — will keep creatures in their place, that the Crea- 
tor may have all the glory." Thus, whilst he revelled amidst 
the golden splendours of the Temple, as types of heavenly 
glory, he maintained what one of the old Covenanters (Andrew 
Grey) well calls, " that solid apprehension of the highness of 
God, which keeps the Christian from trespassing on these 
ways and coverings that are fixed between the Infinite Majes- 
ty, and those who are but the dust of his feet." This holy 
awe, however, had nothing of the spirit of bondage in it. Like 
the High Priest, Bunyan felt himself quite at home in the 
Temple. He found its shadows realized in the Gospel, and 
said with triumph, " We have a golden door to go to God by, 
and golden angels to conduct us through the world, and golden 
palm trees as tokens of our victory, and golden ' open flowers ' 
to smell all the way to heaven !" 

He was very fond of the " Winding stairs " of the Temple. 
He liked to go " up them, and up them, and up them, till he 
came to a view of Heaven." "I went," he says, "up the 
turning stairs, till I came to the highest chambers. A strait 
pair of stairs are like the ladder by which men ascend to the 
Gallows : they are turning stairs that lead us to the heavenly 
mansion-houses. They are, therefore, types of a two-fold Re- 
pentance : that, by which we turn from nature to Grace ; and 



L I F E O F B U N Y A N . 337 

that, by which we tarn from grace to grace, or from imper- 
fection to glory. This turning, and turning still," (from good 
to better,) he says, " displeases some much. They say, it 
makes them giddy : but I say, — there is no way like this, to 
make a man stand steady in the Faith, or at the day of 
judgment. Many in Churches, who seemed to be turned 
from nature to grace, have not the grace to go up turning 
still ; but rest in a show of things, and so die below." 

There is so much fact, as well as fancy, in these Interpreta- 
tions, that we can hardly wonder that Bunyan sits down, now 
and then, amidst the mystic arcana of the Temple, exclaim- 
ing, " O, what speaking things are types, shadows, and para- 
bles, if we had but eyes to see, and ears to hear !" He saw, 
be it remembered, with his own eyes only, " I have not fished," 
he says, " in other men's waters for these things. My Bible 
and Concordance are my only Library, in my writings. 
Much of the glory of our gospel-matters lies wrapt up in a man- 
tle, by Solomon ; and therefore I have made this book as well 
as I could, by comparing spiritual things with spiritual." — 
Works, p. 1971. 

The Molten Sea, as may be supposed, was not left under 
Solomon's mantle. Bunyan uncovers it from brim to brim ; 
and finding that it was just "ten Cubits" wide, he concludes 
that the Ten Commandments had not more power to condemn, 
than the Gospel has to save. Even the hrim of the Laver 
must preach. It was like a cup, and therefore " intended to 
invite us to drink of its grace, as well as to wash in its water." 
And as its brim was wreathed with Lilies, or " like a lily- 
flower, it was to show how those who were washed in, and did 
drink of this Holy Water, should grow and flourish ; and with 
what beautiful robes they should be adorned ; and that God 
would take care of them as he did of Lilies." We have seen 
already, that all the lily- work about the Temple was enchant- 
ing to Bunyan. Even Solomon would have said of him, "he 
feedeth amongst the lilies." 

It deserves notice that he did not seek for Baptism in the 
Molten Sea ; tempting as the great Laver, with its "three 
thousand baths" of water, was. But although it was quite an 
Enon, he was silent. Not so, however, when he saw the Ten 
smaller Lavers in which the Sacrifices were washed. Their 
wheels, he says, " signify walking feot. Obedience is typified 
by the Lavers walking on their wheels." His views of holy 
Obedience were, he knew, common to all Christians ; and 
29 



S38 LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 

therefore he grafted them upon any type : but he respected 
both his own views of Baptism, and the consciences of those 
v/ho differed from him, too much, to graft the mode of that or- 
dinance upon even the Laver " to wash the worshippers." — ^ 
Works, p. 1996. 

The frankincense scattered upon the Shew Bread even when 
the cakes were laid fresh upon the Golden Table, suggested to 
him the necessity of the " perfumes and sanctifications of the 
Holy Spirit," to purify the best works of a Christian ; and 
the removal of the cakes when they became at all " musty or 
stale," taught him to bring new and warm service to the House 
of God. 

The incense being compounded of " three sweet spices, 
called Stacte, Onycha, and Galbanum, it answers," he says, 
" to the three parts of Devotion ; prayer, supplication, and 
intercession. The spices were gummy, and so apt to burn 
with a smoke ; to show that not cold and flat, but hot and 
fervent, is the prayer that flows from the Holy Spirit. Even 
this Incense was to be offered upon the Golden Altar, to show 
that no prayer is accepted but through Christ." — Works, p. 
2004. 

Bunyan rises to the sublime in the Holy of Holies. " The 
most holy place was dark. It had no windows. Things were 
only seen by the light of the fire of the altar : to show that 
God is altogether invisible but io faith. The Holiest was built 
to show us how different our state in heaven will be from our 
state on earth. We walk here by one light, the Word : but 
that place will shine more bright than if all the lights of the 
world were put together. Even on the vail of the temple were 
figures of cherubim, to show that as the angels wait on us here, 
so they will wait for us at the door of their heavens." — P. 2012. 

It was thus Bunyan cheered many of his lonely hours in 
jail, and learnt to build and beautify his own Interpreter's 
House. That house is not, indeed, very magnificent. As a 
house for pilgrims, it ought to be plain. Still, I cannot help 
suspecting that the prison, by reflecting none of the bright 
visions of the temple, and by disturbing them all as they shone, 
made the Interpreter's house plainer than keeping required. 
But however this may be, these specimens of Bunyan's spirit- 
ualizing will explain a little his cheerfulness in prison, and 
account for many of his " witty inventions." He could not 
pursue such thoughts, without both forgetting and improving 
himself at the same time. It is, however, hardly less pleasing 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 839 

to remember that many did both, without Bunyan's talents. 
Thus it would be difficult to say, which is the more instructive 
fact ; whether a Bunyan possessing his mighty " soul in pa- 
tience," or an ordinary man " rejoicing in tribulation." Both 
Paul and Silas sang in the same prison. So did Bunyan and 
Kelsey. 

Kelsey, one of the Lincolnshire Baptists, seems to have been 
seventeen years in prison. Little else is known of him, ex- 
cept that he was a good man, and " sang this song :" 

" I hope the more they punish me, that I shall grow more bold ; 
The furnace they provide for me, will make me finer gold. 
My Friends, my God will do me good, when they intend me harm ; 
They niciy suppose a prison cold, but God can make it loarm. 
They double my imprisonment, whale'er they mean thereby: 
My God in it gives me content; and then, what loss have I ? 
What if my God should suffer them on me to have their will, 
And give me Heaven instead of Earth ? I am no loser still." 

Taylor''s General Baptists. 

When Bunyan lifted his eyes from his Bible in prison, he 
saw little, of course, to sharpen his wits, or to give play to his 
fancy. He could, however, make much of a little. His cell 
overhung the river, and thus he could look down upon the 
gliding stream, and forth upon the aspects of the sky. A 
leaping fish, or a skimming swallow, was both an event and a 
sermon to him, when he could spare a few moments at the 
grated window, from the labours of his pen and pincers. But 
it was not often he could do so. He had to work hard with his 
pincers, in order to tag the stay -laces which his wife and his 
poor blind daughter made and sold for the support of the fa- 
mily. He had also to study hard, in order to bring his writ- 
ings up to something like the scheme and scale of other theo- 
logians. His pen was thus heavier to him than his pincers ; 
for he had nothing to lighten its labour but his Concordance. 
When he did escape, however, from his chair to the window, 
he was all eve and ear to whatever was stirring in the heavens 
above, or in the waters beneath. And if nothing presented it- 
self outside the window, he could learn much from the spiders 
and flies inside. It was whilst watching them one day, that 
he drew the striking picture of an entangled and struggling 
Christian. 

" The fly in the spider's web," he says, " is an emblem of a 
soul which Satan is trying to poison and kill. The fly is en- 
tangled in the web. At this, the spider shows hiixiself. If the 



340 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

fly stir again, down comes the spicier, and claps a foot upon 
her. If the fly struggle still, he poisons her more and more. 
What shall the fly do now ? Why, she dies, if somebody do 
not quickly release her. This is the case with the tempted. 
Their feet and wings are entangled. Now, Satan shows him- 
self. If the soul struggleth, Satan laboureth to hold it down. 
If it maketh a noise, then he bites it with a blasphemous 
mouth, more poisonous than the gall of a serpent. If it strug- 
gle again, he then poisons it more and more ; insomuch, that 
it must needs die, if the Lord Jesus help not. But though the 
fly is altogether incapable of looking for relief, this tempted 
Christian is not. What must he do therefore ? If he look to 
his heart, there is blasphemy. If he look to his duties, there 
is sin. Shall this man lie down in despair? No. Shall he 
trust in his duties 1 No. Shall he stay away from Christ 
until his heart is better ? No. What then ? Let him look to 
Christ crucified ! Then shall he see his sius answered for, and 
death dying. This sight destroys the power of the first temp^ 
tation, and both purifies the mind, and inclines the heart to all 
good things." — Works, vol. iv. p. 2340. Thus, if Bunyan 
built the Interpreter's House by spiritualizing the temple, he 
interpreted the sights in that house by making the most and 
the best of what he saw in his own cell, 

Bunyan was so pleased with this parallel between Satan 
and a spider, that away went pincers and laces, until he 
rhymed the fact. He makes the spider say, 

" Thus in my ways, God, wisdom doth conceal, 
And by my ways, that wisdom 1 reveal. 
I hide myself, when I for flies do wait ; 
So doth the devil, when he lays his bait. 
If I do fear the losing of my prey, 
I stir me^ and more snares upon her lay. 
This way, and that, her wings and legs I tie, 
That sure as she is catclied, so she must die. 
And if I see she 's like to get away. 
Then,, with my venom, I her journey stay." 

Works, vol. ii. p. 964, 

Bunyan studied and talked with this spider so much at the 
window, that it became a favourite with him at last. He 
abuses it in " good set terms," through half a long poem ; but 
it taught him so much sound wisdom, that he withdrew his 
sarcasms, and sang, 

** V/ell, my good spider, I my errors see ; 
I was a fool in. railing thus at tb,ee» 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 341 

Thy nature, venom, and thy fearful hue, 
But show what sinners are, and what they do. 
Well, well, I will no more be a derider, 
I did not look for such things from a spider. 
O Spider, I have heard thee, and do wonder^ 
A spider thus should lighten, and thus thunder., 

Spider, lliou delight'st me with thy skill, 

1 pray thee spit this venom at me still !" 

It was not without reason he thus ended with high compli- 
ments to his weh-weaving neighbour : for he studied her habits 
and instincts, until he found her to be the best philosopher he 
had ever met with. He has not, in fact, written any thing 
more ingenious or profound, in one sense, than his poem of 
" The Sinner and the Spider."^ 

It is dehghtful to find, that neither the dust nor the bars of 
his prison window could prevent Bunyan from enjoying sun- 
rise. He had often sat under its first rosy light, reading Lu- 
ther and the Bible, whilst a wandering tinker ; and when a 
prisoner, he could welcome the sun thus : 

" Look yonder ! O, methinks, mine eyes do see 
Clouds edged with silver, as fine garments be ! 
They look as if they saw thy golden face. 
That makes black clouds most beautiful with grace. 
Unto the Saints' sweet incense of their prayer, 
These smoky curling clouds, I do compare ; 
For as these clouds seem edged or laced with gold, 
Their prayers return, with blessings manifold." 

Works, vol. ii. p. 963. 

All weathers were not alike to the prisoner. He felt the 
weight of a close or damp atmosphere. It made him so ner* 
vous in his cell, that he was often ready* he says, " to start and 
tremble at his own shadow" on the walls and the floor. He 
could, however, turn all weathers to account. On one " low- 
ering morning," he laid aside his pin.cers, and wrote thus : — 

'• Well, with the day, I see the clouds appear. 
And mix the light with darkness everywhere. 
This threatens those who on long journeys go, 
That they shall meet with slobby rain or snow. 
Else, while I gaze, the sun doth with his beams 
Belace the clouds, as 't were with bloody streams. 
Then, suddenly, these clouds do watery grow, 
And weep, and pour their tears out, as they go. 
Thus 'tis when gospel-light doth usher in 
To us, both sense ot grace, and sense of sin; 

•29* 



342 LIFE OF BUN YAK, 

And when it makes sin red with Jesu's blood, 
Then we can weep till weeping does us good ! " 

Works, vol. ii. p. 959. 

Except Bunyan attempted to write poetry before he was a 
prisoner, — of which I have found no proof — he seems to have 
seen from his window, in the bed of the river, a bright stone, 
which interested him, and at length instructed him. The fol- 
lowing lines prove at least, that he could " find sermons in 
stones, and books in running brooks,^ and good in every thing." 

" This flint, time out of mind, hath there abode, 
Where crystal streams make their continual road ; 
Yet it abides a flint as much as 'twere 
Before it touched the water, or came there» 
Its hardness is not in the least abated, 
'T is not at all by water peneirated. 
Though water haih a softening virtue in 't, 
It can't dissolve the stone ; for 't is a flint. 
Yea, though in the water it doth still remain, 
Its fiery nature it doth still retain. 
If you oppose h with its opposite, 
Then in your very face its fire will spit. 
This flint an emblem is of those that lie 
Under the Word, like stones, until they die : 
Its crystal streams do not their nature change, 
They are not from their lusts by grace estranged." 

Works, vol. ii. p. 958. 

I have mentioned Bunyan's Sand-Glass. He could not be 
so playful with it as with his rose, or with his spider. It had 
measured too many sad and slow hours to suggest any but 
solemn thoughts. Its sands were never golden, nor too swift, 
but when his great works were in hand ; and then, he had no 
time to count them. But when he did count them, it was done 
like himself. 

" This glass, when made, was, by the workman's skill, 
The sum of sixty minutes to fulfil. 
Time, more or less, by it will not be spun ; 
But just an hour, and then its sands are run. 
Man's life we will compare unto this glass : 
The number of his months he cannot pass." 

Works, vol. ii. p. 976. 

Bunyan must have been not a little pleased, at times, with 
his own poetry, although it cost much labour. And, no 
wonder ; for it is sometimes very happy. No one has ever 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. J^43 

sung " The Fly and the Candle" better than he did. True, 
he could ill afford to have his small candles set a running by 
flies. They wasted too soon of themselves, and were always 
too few for his purpose. He scolds the Fly, however, in the 
gentlest terms he well could. 

" What ails this fly, thus desperately to enter 
A combat with the candle ? Will she venture 
To clash at light ? Away, thou silly fly ! 
Thus doing, tkou wilt burn thy wings and die. 
But 't is a tolly — her advice to give : 
She'll kill the candle ; or, she will not live. 
' Slap !' says she, ' at it !' Then she makes retreat. 
So wheels about, and doth her blows repeat. 
Nor doth the candle let her quite escape. 
But gives some little check unto the ape ; 
Throws up her nimble heels, till down she falls 
Where she lies sprawling, and for succour calls. 
When she recovers, up she gets again. 
And at the candle comes, with might and main ! 
But now, behold, the candle takes the fly. 
And holds her till she doth, bj?^ burning, die !" 

Works, vol. ii. p. 976". 

But it is time to draw this long chapter to a close, although it 
certainly has not been made long for the sake of length ; but 
that we may see how Bunyan diversified his literary pursuits ; 
and thus realize his very position and spirit whilst he was 
thinking for the world, and writing for all time. In fact, no- 
thing but such quotation as I have indulged in, could explain 
the plodding habits of such a mind as Bunyan^s. He could 
not have worked out his theological system, through the me- 
dium of a Concordance, without the reliefs he found in rhyming 
and spiritualizing. These were both air and exercise to his 
mind, after being long bent at hard study. It was by giving 
play to his fancy, and by indulging the whims of his taste, 
when tired of pondering, that he kept his understanding so 
clear, and his judgment so cool. In a word, it was by having 
" so many irons in the fire at once," and by humouring the 
inclination of the moment in the selection of owe, that he 
wrought them all so well. 

I have included his Book of Martyrs amongst his few com- 
forts in prison, although he himself does not name it along with 
his Bible and Concordance. There are, however, references to 
it in some of his Works written in prison, which indicate its 
presence there. There is also a quotation from it in his 



344 1^1 FE OF BUJXYAN. 

" House of the Forest of Lebanon," too long and accurate to 
be made from memory. One of his own signatures also in it, 
bears date in 1662. It must, therefore, have been in prison 
with him. 

I cannot close this chapter, without bringing up again the 
interesting fact, that Bunyan retained and cherished all his 
love of Nature, even when most shut out from the sight of 
the heavens and the earth. To his sanctified imagination. 
Nature had been a Bethel Ladder, whilst he was a prisoner at 
large : and when he was in 

" Durance vile,'' 

and could see only a step or two of that Ladder through his 
bars, his spirit sprung out upon it at once. I must illustrate 
this fact. He exclaims, at sun-rise, 

"Look, look ! brave Sol doth peep up from beneath ; — 
Shows us his golden face ;— doth on us breathe : 
Yea, he doth compass us around witli glories, 
Whilst he ascends up to his highest stories, 
Where he his banner over us displays, 
And. gives us light !" 

WorkSf vol. ii. p. 968. 

He was so fond of sun-light, as well as scarce of candles 
to write by, that he remonstrated with the sun one night 
thus, 

" AVhat, hast thou run thy race ? Art going down? 
Why as one angry, dost thou fade and frown ? 
Why wrap thy head with clouds, and hide thy face, 
As threatening to withdraw from us thy grace ? 
O, leave us not ! When once thou hid'st thy head, 
Our whole horizon will be overspread ! 
Tell, who hath thee offended ? Turn again ! 
Alas, too late ! Entreaties are in vain." 

Works, vol. ii. p. 971. 

His prison window seems to have commanded the view of 
an Orchard, This delighted him, although it must have re- 
minded him of his thievish pranks whilst he was a sin-breeder 
in Elstow and Bedford. 

" A comely sight, indeed, it is to see 
A world of blossoms on an apple-tree. 
Yet far more comely would, this tree appear^, 
If all its dainty blossoms, apples were,. 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 345 

But how much more might one upon it see, 
If all would hang there until ripe they be ! 
But most of all its beauty would abound, 
If all that ripened were but truly sound !" 

Works, vol ii. p. 968. 

"The twittering swallow" wheeling around the prison, and 
skimming the river, did not escape his notice, nor move in 
vain. 

*' This pretty bird, O, how she flies and sings ! 
But could she do so, if she had not loings ? 
Her wings bespeak my faith ; her songs, my peace ! 
When I believe and sing, my doublings cease." 

Works, vol. ii. p. 959. 

Such was Banyan's spirit in prison : such were his sympa- 
thies, associations, longings and amusements. And those who 
sympathize with his joys and sorrows, whilst an Ambassador 
in bonds, and an author in purpose, will not laugh at my at- 
tempts to get and give a sight of him. They may be fail- 
ures ; but they have been eftbrts, honestly and patiently made ; 
and which, perhaps, no one else would have made, unless he 
had 7nore in view than mere biography, and other than literary 
motives. But whilst I have forgotten neither of these, I have 
been chiefly influenced and regulated by the great moral lesson 
which the life and talents of Bunyan teach. I want those 
who admire the Pilgrim, and marvel at *' The Grace Abound* 
ing," to study the whole character of the Author. 



346 L I F E- O F B U N Y AN . 



CHAPTER XXXIir. 

MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

In a list of eminent Protestant Bishops lately published i» 
Ireland to confront the Popish Bench, the name of Bunyan 
appears as one of the stars of the British Episcopate. This 
may be an Irish hull, but it is not a moral blunder. Bishop 
Bunyan was the Tinker's first title, when he ceased to be a 
tinker ; and Whitefield gave currency to it in Ireland. In 
this way, the worthy Clergyman who drew up the list was 
misled. It is, however, neither a mistake nor a misnomer to 
call Bunyan a moral Philosopher, if a high relish for virtue, and 
a deep insight into its elements and excellence, constitute a 
great Moralist. He could also apply^ as well as explain, its 
principles. He knew human nature as well as divine law. 
He was both a mental and moral Philosopher ; and could do 
what few of either class have ever attempted, — close with the 
consciences of his readers, and pursue both the stubborn and 
the treacherous through all the labyrinths of resistance and 
evasion. His genius, like the magnetized chariot of the Chi- 
nese emperor, which enabled him to make conquests by show- 
ing him in what direction to pursue the enemy, both fitted and 
inclined Bunyan to fight for victory^ in battling with the vi- 
cious and the compromising. This cast of his mind has never 
been sufficiently illustrated or noticed. His Pilgrims are, 
indeed. Ethics in motion; — Morals in action ; but they are so, 
because his general principles were profound, and his tact and 
insight intuitive. 

Nothing is more distinguishable in his character, than his 
keen discernment of " the beauties of Holiness." He was 
emphatically " of quick understanding in the fear of the Lord." 
No painter or poet ever had a finer eye for the beauties and 
sublimities of Nature, than he had for the graces, virtues, and 
proprieties of Christian character. He understood them, as 
well as exemplified them. He could define or depict them all 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 347 

in words, as well as imitate them in his practice and spirit. 
This is more than could be expected from him, when his edu- 
cation, condition, and associations are remembered. For even 
when these became most favourable to the improvement of his 
taste and character, they did not amount to much that was 
eitiier inspiring or instructive ; nor do they explain his moral 
discernment. He never saw good society, in the conventional 
sense of that phrase, until some of his best treatises on the 
" things which are pure, lovely, and of good report," were 
written. He had met, indeed, good men, and mixed a little 
with pious families, before his imprisonment : but they were all 
in the lower ranks of life, and more influenced in their virtues 
by the rules of virtue, than by the reasons of it. I mean, that 
they had more principle than sentiment, or more conscience 
than taste in their well-doing. " From whence then had this 
man knowledge'^ of the foundations, refinements, and secrets 
of high-toned morals and courtesy ? 

Now it is certain that Bunyan did not learn general princi- 
ples from ethical books. He had none to consult ; except Bish- 
op Fowler's " Design of Christianitj'^," can be considered such ; 
aiid he hated its theology too much to admire its ethics. Be- 
sides, he had written his Pilgrim before he read that book ; 
and there he had evinced both his knowledge and tact as a 
moralist, as well as a divine. This remark applies equally to 
his acquaintance with some of the writings of Campian the 
Jesuit, and William Penn. He read them in 1671, in order 
to prove that Fowler " falleth in with the Quakers and Ro- 
manists against the 10th, llth, and 13th of the Thirty-Nine 
Articles of the Church of England." 

As Bunyan had no Books in prison from which he could 
derive his profound and delicate views of the beauty of Ho- 
liness, so he had no instructive companions in it. He had 
examples of personal holiness before him there, in his brethren 
and companions in tribulation ; but no moral philosophers, that 
we know of. Wheeler and Dunn were good men ; but not 
Masters in Israel. Besides, even if there were, now and then, 
some men of learning and talent, amongst the Nonconformist 
prisoners in Bedford Jail, Bunyan had proved himself a phi- 
losopher whilst he was a tinker. He made Edward Burroughs 
feel this, when he reduced all his sophism about the Inward 
Light, to absurdities. The Quaker found that he had a Meta- 
physician to deal with, and therefore called him a liar. In 
like manner, Dr. Fowler, whilst he affected to despise him, was 



348 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

glad to shelter himself from Bunyan's generalizing logic, 
der Baxter's special pleading. Baxter, indeed, defended the 
work better than its author did : but Bunyan foiled them both 
on the question of Justification by Faith. This would be no 
great achievement now ; but it was a victory then. 

We are thus shut up to the Bible, for the origin of Bunyan's 
pure taste and general principles ; and never was there a finer 
illustration or proof of its being " able to furnish the man 
of God, thoroughly unto every good work and word." Its one 
maxim, — " Let every one that nameth the name of Christ 
depart from iniquity," — became in Bunyan's hands a perfect 
system of Moral Philosophy ; embracing at once the princi- 
ples and details of duty. 

" The design of this exhortation," he says, " was, and is, 
that naming the name of Christ should be accompanied with 
such a life of holiness as shall put additional lustre upon that 
name, whenever it is named in a religious way." Such a 
lustre he himself determined to shed upon the name of Christ. 
*' For my part," he says, " I had rather be a pattern and exam- 
ple of piety ; rather my life should be instructing to the saints, 
and condemning to the world, with Noah and Lot, than hazard 
myself amongst the multitude of the drossy. I know that 
many professors will fall short of eternal life ; and my judg- 
ment tells me they will be of the slovenly sort, that so do : and 
for my part, I had rather run with the foremost^ and win the 
prize, than come behind and lose my labour. Not that works 
do save us : but faith which layeth hold of Christ's righteous- 
ness for justification, sanctifieth the heart, and makes men 
desirous to live in this world to the glory of that Christ who 
died to save us from death." 

This was his mode of applying the maxim to himself. And 
he exemplified it so, that he could look round wherever he 
had " gone preaching the Gospel," and say, without faltering 
or blushing, " For my part, I doubt the faith of many ; and 
fear that it will prove no better than the faith of devils, in 
the day of God ; for it standeth in bare speculation, and is 
without life and soul to that which is good. For where is the 
man that walketh with the Cross on his shoulder ! Where is 
the man zealous of moral holiness? For those things, indeed, 
which have nothing of the cross of the purse — or the cross of 
the helly — or the cross of the hack — or the cross of the vanity 
of household affairs, I find many busy sticklers : but self-denial, 
charity, purity in life and conversation, are almost turned 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 349 

quite out of doors amongst professors. But, Man of God 
do tliou be singular ! Singularity in godliness, if it be in 
godliness, no man should be ashamed of. Holiness is a rare 
thing now in the world. Did we but look back to the Puri- 
tans, and especially to those that suffered for the Word of God 
in the Marian days, we should see another life than is now 
among men. But hope to be with Christ hereafter, will make 
lyie strive to be like him here. Hope of being with Angels 
then, should make a man strive to live like an Angel here. 
Alas, alas, there is a company of Jialf. priests in the world, and 
they cannot, dare not, teach the people the whole counsel of 
God. Where is that minister to be found now, that dare say 
to his people, ' look on me, and walk as you have me for an ex- 
ample .'' " 

It is needless to say, that Bunyan was not boasting, when 
he spoke thus of himself. He was emphatically a humble 
man, although proverbially a holy man. The fact is, he 
wanted to stand committed and pledged before the world, to 
he all that he professed. He had also a deep conviction, that 
peculiar times required « a peculiar people, zealous of good 
works." " I have often thought," he said on his death-bed, 
" that the best Cristians are found in the uw^st times." This 
led him {strange as it may appear !) to regret that he had not 
been " counted worthy to suffer " more for the name of Christ. 
Hence he said also, on his death-bed, « I have thought again, 
that one reason why we are not better, is, because God puro-es 
us no more (by the furnace.) Noah and Lot; — who so holy 
as they, in the time of their affliction? And yet, who so idle 
as they, in the time of their prosperity?" Bunyan's views on 
the subject of suffering for Christ's sake, deserve the highest 
veneration. They ought not be confounded with the thirst of 
Polycarp for martyrdom, or with the longings of Whitefield 
and Wesley for tiie scorn of the world. Bunyan was wiser 
tlian the latter in early life, and than the former in old ao-e. 
" It is not every suffering," he says, " that makes a man a 
martyr ; but suffering for the word of God after a right man- 
ner : that is, not only for righteousness, but for righteousness' 
sake ; not only for truth, but out of love to truth ; not only for 
God's Word, but according to it : viz,, in that holy, humble, 
meek manner, the Word of God requireth. It is a rare thino- 
to suffer aright ; (or so as) to have my spirit, in suffering, bent 
against God's enemy. Sin ; — sin in doctrine, sin in worship, 
sin in life, and sin in conversation." — Death Bed Sayings, 
30 * ^ 



350 LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 

Dr. Southey stated a great truth, although Bunyan was not 
the man to connect it with, when he said, " Nothing is more 
certain than that the gratification which a resolute spirit feels 
in satisfying its conscience, exceeds all others. This feeling 
(however) is altogether distinct from that peace of mind 
which, under all afflictions, abide in the regenerate heart : 
nor is it so safe a feeling ; for it depends too much upon ex- 
citement, and the exaltation and triumph it produces are akin 
to pride." — Life, p. 66. This is true : but Bunyan is neither 
a proof nor an illustration of its truth. Dr. Southey goes 
deep into the heart here : but Bunyan (we have seen) went 
deeper. 

But whilst he cherished both solemn and sublime views of 
personal holiness, and was sentimental as well as conscientious 
in his love to holiness, he was no visionary, nor theoretical 
perfectionist. He distinguishes wisely, between indwelling 
sin, and outstanding iniquities. " The nature and being of sin 
in us, cannot be so plucked out up by the roots, and cast clean 
away from us, as to have no stirring in us. (Indwelling) sin 
is one of the most quick and brisk things, and will have mo- 
tions according to its life. It is impossible to separate our- 
selves from our persons ; yet we should withdraw our minds 
and affections from sin within us, A man may thus depart 
from that, which will depart from him. Yea, a man may, in 
mind, depart from that which yet will dwell with him so long 
as he lives. For instance, there are many diseases cleave to 
men, from which in their minds, they willingly depart. Yea, 
their greatest disquietment is, that so bad a distemper will 
abide by them. Might they have their own desire, they would 
be as far from it as the ends of the earth are asunder. Even 
whilst they continue together, the mind departs from it, and 
gone to God or to physicians for help and deliverance from 
it. And thus it is with the saint : with his mind he serves 
the law of God, and departs from all iniquity." — Works, vol. 
iii. p. 1369. 

Thus Bunyan thought and wrote, years before Dr. Owen 
published his work on Indwelling Sin. That Work came out 
in the year Bunyan died. But he, like Owen, could search the 
heart as " with lighted candles," on this subject. In answer 
to the question, how may I know that I depart from the iniqui- 
ty which is in my flesh ? he says, " How is iniquity in thine 
eye, when severed from the guilt and punishment that attend 
it? Is it, as separate from the beauteous, or iZZ-favoured ? 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 351 

I ask thee, how it loohs — how thou likest it, suposing there 
were no guilt or punishment attending the commission of it 1 
For if in its own nature it be desirable to thy mind, thou art 
like the thief that refuseth to take his neighbour's horse, not 
from hatred of theft, but for fear of the gallows. Again ; how 
dost thou like thyself, as possessed of a body of sin 1 Doth 
this yield thee a kind of secret sweetness 1 There is nothing 
more odious to a sanctified mind ! It makes a good man 
blush and abhor himself. How look thy duties in thine eyes ? 
They catch the stain of sin as coming from thee. Art thou, 
through the ignorance that is in thee, unaffected with this ] 
Again ; why wouldst thou go to heaven ? Because it is 
a holy place, or because it is remote from the pains of 
hell ?" 

Bunyan was practical as well as penetrating, on this sub- 
ject. " There are," he says, " occasions given, and occasions 
taken to sin against the Lord Jesus ; and a good man will de- 
part from both. He that hath set himself to depart from sin 
in himself will not seek occasions abroad to sin. There may 
be occasions where there are no examples. He that hankers 
after enticings and opportunities, is not departing from iniqui- 
ty. Departing from it is not the work of an hour, or a day, 
or a week, or a month, or a year ; but it is the work of a life- 
time, and there is greatness and difficulty in it. With many, 
it is like the falling out of two neighbours : they hate each 
other for a while, and then renew their friendship again. But 
remember, — that a profession is not worth a pm, if they that 
make it depart not from iniquity." — Works, vol. iii. p. 
1472. 

It would be a mistake to suppose, from the bluntness of these 
illustrations, that Bunyan dealt only in pithy maxims, when 
inculcating pure morals. He could and did embellish, as well 
as explain and expostulate. The beautiful ideal of Holiness 
was equally familiar to his thoughts, and frequently on his lips. 
What could be more exquisitely chaste and lovely than his 
comparison of a holy Minister, to the lily-wreathed pillars of 
the temple ? " A lily-life is the glory of an Apostle. Judas 
had none of this lily-work. Even covetousness makes a 
Minister''sme\\ frowish. It is he that grows as a lily, that shall 
smell as Lebanon, and have his beauty as the Olive tree. It is 
brave when the world is made to say of the lives and conver- 
sation of saints, as they were made to say of the adorning and 
beauty of the Temple, ' What manner of stones are here V 



352 LIFE OF BUN YAK 

I say, it is brave, when our light so shines before men, that 
they are forced to glorify our Father, which is in heaven."-— 
Works, vol. iv. p. 1981. 

The following comparison is of the same kind. " It is ami- 
able and pleasant to God, when Christians keep their rank, 
station, and relation, doing all as becomes their quality and 
calling. When they stand every one in their places, and do 
the work of their relation, they are like flowers in the garden, 
that grow where the Gardener planted them, and thus do him 
and it honour." " From the hyssop on the wall, to the Cedar 
on Lebanon, their fi'uit is their glory. And seeing the Stock 
into which we are planted is the fruitfulest Stock ; and the 
sap conveyed out thereof, the fruitfulest sap ; and the Dresser, 
the wisest husbandman, — how contrary to nature, to example — 
to expectation should we be, if we be not rich in good works ! 
Wherefore, take heed of being painted fire, wherein is no 
warmth ; and painted flowers, which retain no smell ;; and 
painted trees, whereon is no fruit."- — Works, vol. iv. p. 2092* 

It would not be easy to find a parallel to the following illus- 
tration of the mutual influence of holy Christians. " Whilst 
the Doctrine of the gospel is like the dew and the small rairi 
which distilleth on the tender herb, — Christians are like the 
several flowers in a garden, that have on each of them the 
dew of Heaven, which, being shaken by the wind, they let 
fall on each other's roots ; w hereby they are nourished, and 
become nourishers of one another. For to communicate 
savourly to each other of God's matters, is as if they opened to 
each other's nostrils Boxes of perfume." — Works, vol. iv* 
p. 2119. 

When Bunyan had such visions of the beauty of Holiness 
before him, the ugliness of sin, as he called its deformity, ex- 
torted from him tremendous rebukes to drossy professors. 
" O the confusion and shame that will cover their faces, when 
God is discovering to them what a nasty, uncomely, unreason- 
able life they have led in the world ! They will blush until the 
blood is ready to burst through their cheeks. God will cover 
with shame all such bold and brazen faces." — Works, vol. ii. 
p. 666. " Such a professor is like a man that comes out of a 
Pest House, with all his plague-sores running. He poisons the 
air around him. This man hath the breath of the dragon. 
He slays his children, his kinsmen, his friends, and himself. 
I remember Philpot used to tell the Papists, that they danced 
naked in a net, because t)f their evil ways : and the Lord bids 



I 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 353 

professors have a care, the shame of their nakedness do not 
appear. Whatever they may think of themselves, they are 
seen of others." — Works, vol. iii. p. 1391. '< One black sheep 
is quickly espied among five hundred white ones ; and one 
mangy sheep will soon infect many." — Works, vol. iii. p. 
1386. " Hypocrite ! even the gain of thy religion, thou 
spendest it as tiiou gettest it. Thou wilt not have one farthing 
overplus at death and judgment. Even what thou hast, thou 
hast stolen it from thy neighbour, like Judas from the bag. 
Thou camest as a thief into thy profession, and as a thief thou 
shalt go out of the same. Jesus Christ hath committed to 
thee none of his jewels to keep." — Works, vol. iii. p. 1567. 
" Such professors pestered the Churches of old. Who on 
earth can help it ? Jades there be, of all colours ! We may 
say to such, as the Prophet spake to their like, ' Go ye, serve 
every man his idol.' Go, Professors, go : leave off profession. 
Better never profess, than make profession a stalking-horse to 
deceit, sin, the devil, and hell. A Professor, and defraud! 
Away with him." — Works, vol. ii. p. 893. 

But whilst Bunyan thus flung false Professors to the winds, 
it was not to abandon them. This may easily be supposed 
from his Favourite Sermon. In trying, however, to reclaim 
them, he did more than prove that there was mercy for the 
biggest sinners. His maxim was. " Let them depart from their 
Constitution-Sin, or if you will, the sin that their temper most 
inclines them to." His plying and pleading this turning 
point, evince his philosophy. " So long as thy constitution- 
sin remains, or is winked at, thou art a Hypocrite before God, 
let thy profession be what it will. If a man will depart from 
iniquity, he must depart from his darling sin first : for as long 
as that is entertained, others, most suiting his darling, will 
always be haunting him. There is a man that has such and 
such Haunters of his house, who spend his substance. He 
would be rid of them, but cannot. But now, let him rid him- 
self of that for which they haunt his house, and he shall with 
ease be rid of them. Thus it is with sin. There is a man 
plagued with many sins, because he embraceth one. Let him 
turn that one out of doors. That is the way to be rid of the 
rest. The casting away of that, is death to the rest, and 
ordinarily makes a change throughout." — Works, vol. iii. p. 
1:394. 

This is the real philosophy of moral reformation. Bunyan 
knew this, and scouted all compromise. To no maxim did he 

30* 



354 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

give more currency than this, — " Take heed thou deceive not 
thyself, by changing one bad way for another bad way. This 
was a trick Israel played of old ; hopping like the Squirrel 
from bough to bough, but not willing to forsake their tree. 
Many times men change their darling sins, as some change 
their servants. Hypocrisy would do awhile ago, but now de- 
bauchery. Profaneness was the fashion, but now a deceitful 
profession. Take heed thou throw not away tliine old darling 
for a new one. Men's tempers alter. Youth is for pride and 
wantonness : middle age for cunning and craft : old age for 
the world and covetousness." The following maxim is equally 
profound. " Take heed lest thy departing from iniquity be 
but for a time. Persons in wrangling fits depart from each 
other ; but when the quarrel is over, by means of some inter- 
cessor, they are reconciled again. O, Satan is the intercessor 
between the soul and sin ! The breach may seem irreconcile- 
able; but he can w?aA:e wp the difference between them. There 
is danger in this. The height of danger is in it ! He makes 
use of those sins again which jump with the temper of thy 
soul. These are,^ as I may call them, thy master-sins. They 
suit thy temper. These, as the little end of a wedge, enter 
with ease, and so make way for those which come after ; with 
which, Satan knows he can rend thy soul in pieces." — Works^ 
vol. iii. p. 1395, 

It was not merely by exposing the deceit fulness of sin or the 
wiles of the devil, however, that Bunyan fought the battles of 
Holiness. He strove equally to define and endear, one by one, 
the virtues, graces, and duties of Christian character. He 
was emphatically a Family Instructor. Whilst allowed to 
preach, he taught from house to house, that " God sees within 
doors as well as without, and will judge the iniquity of the 
house as well as that which is more open :" and when he could 
only write, he tore the roofs off ill managed houses, as it were, 
to make them ashamed of their " hugger-mugger iniquity," as 
he calls family sins. Bunyan's maxim, like Philip-Henry's, 
was, " What a man is at Home, that he is indeed. My house 
and my closet show most what I am, to my Family and to the 
Angels, though not to the world." — Works, vol. iii, p. 1400. 
" The Husband that carrieth it indiscreetly to his wife, doth not 
only behave himself contrary to the rule, but also crosseth the 
mystery of the relation. Be such a husband, that thy wife 
may say, ' He preacheth to me every day the carriage of Christ 
to his Church.' If thy wife be unbelieving or carnal, thou art 



LIFE OF BUN YAN. 355 

under a double obligation to do so ; for she lieth liable every 
moment to eternal danger. If she behave herself unseemly 
and unruly, being graceless and Christless, then labour thou to 
overcome her evil with thy goodness ; her frowardness by thy 
patience and meekness. It is a shame for thee, who hast ano- 
ther principle, to do as she! Let all be done without rancour, 
or the least appearance of anger." — Worhs, vol. iv. p. 2103. 
Bunyan goes so far, and so minutely, into conjugal duty, in 
his treatise on ' Christian Behaviour,' that he seems to have 
had a public reason for speaking so explicitly. There is, of 
course, always too much reason for enforcing this duty : but 
it so happened, that, in 1657, his Brethren had discussed at 
the Association, the question, " Whether a man in any case 
of ruling over his wife, may lawfully strike her ?" Their de- 
cision on this cardinal point was, " He ought to preserve the 
point of Rule, if it 7nay be, without striking ; that having no 
precept nor example in Holy Scripture." — Tiverton Minutes. 
Signed, Thos. Collier ! I need neither say that Bunyan 
was no party in this discussion, nor that the decision was too 
cold and equivocal for his taste ; and I will not say, that he 
struck at this fact. He did, however, strike hard blows at 
some of the Resolutions of the Western Association, as I shall 
have occasion to show, and as they richly deserved. Bunyan 
had, however, sturdy, although not stern notions of the Hus- 
band's authority. He does not mince the matter of obedience 
or subjection on the part of a wife ; but he puts the claim 
well. He does more than say, " it is odious in wives to be 
like parrots, not bridling their tongue :" he appeals also to 
their good sense, and asks, " Do you think it seemly for the 
Church to parrot it against her Husband 1 The wife should 
know, as I said before, that Her husband is her Lord, as Christ 
is over the Church. And now I say also, that if she walk 
with her husband as becomcth her, she shall preach to him the 
obedience of the Church." This is the great general principle 
on which Bunyan reasons and remonstrates. But he knew 
the heart as well as the Law, and said to the Ladies, " Now 
for the right-timing of thy intentions ! Consider thy Hus- 
band's disposition, and take him when he is farthest off from 
the passions which are thy afflictions. Abigail would not 
speak a word to her churlish husband, until his wine was gone 
from him, and he in a sober temper again. Tiie want of this 
observation is the cause why so much is spoken, and so little 
effected. Take him also at those times, when he is most taken 



356 LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 

with thee, and when he showeth tokens of love and deHght in 
thee. Thus did Esther with her husband, and prevailed. Take 
heed also that what thou doest, goes not in thy name, but his ; 
not to thy exaltation, but Ms ; carrying all things so by thy 
dexterity and prudence, that not one of thy husband's weak- 
nesses be discovered to others by thee. Do it, and the Lord 
prosper thee !" — Works, vol. iv. p. 2108. 

If all this be not moral Philosophy, it is something 
better. It certainly comes home to the business of life, 
and to the bosom of nature. And yet, although good, it 
is not the best that might have been selected from Bun- 
yan's Works : for my object has been rather to develop his 
mind and taste, than to elucidate his Ethical system. As a 
System, worked out without Books or Models, or any but 
spiritual Motives, that is wonderful ! And in this point of 
view, his Theology is equally so. Of him only is it literally 
true, that "he was a man of One Book." Accordingly, in 
enforcing Morals, he is not afraid to go ail the lengths of the 
Bible, in proclaiming the rewards of virtue. He can crucify 
Works as merit, and crown them as obedience, with an equally 
steady and impartial hand. He throws the best of them into 
the bottomless pit without ceremony, when they are put for- 
ward as a claim for mercy, or a price for salvation ; but as 
fruits of the Spirit, and as conscientious efforts to glorify God, 
he brings them out at Death and Judgment, enshrined with 
what he calls " a spangling reward." " A dying bed is made 
easy^ ^^^ says, "by good works. "^ "An unchristian walk 
makes it as uncomfortable, as if the man lay on nothing but 
the cords of his bed. Mounts Ebal and Gerrizim, I take to be 
a type of the Judgment. He whom mount Ebal smiteth, 
misseth heaven. Mount Gerrizim is sure to bless the good 
man. He shall enter into rest, and his works shall follow 
him." — Works, vol. ii. p. 1106. 

I need not add, that Bunyan made the lone of Christ the 
motive of all holy obedience : but I must add his own illus-. 
tration of this : — delight in holy things, wrought by Redeem- 
ing Love, 

*' Like live-honey runs, 
And needs no pressing from the honey-combs ! " 

Works, vol. iv. p. 2648. 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 357 



CHAPTER XXXIV. 

B U N Y A N ' S WIT. 

So few specimens of Bunyan's wit have obtained currency, 
that a whole Chapter of it will excite surprise at first. And 
yet it ought not. The man must have been not a little wag- 
gish as well as witty, who invented such happy names for the 
Judge and Jury that tried and burnt Faithful, at Vanity Fair. 
Indeed, most of the names which Bunyan gives to recreant or 
pretended Pilgrims, are happy hits, and speak volumes. Many 
of the characters in his Holy War also, as well as the manoeu- 
vres of it, are rich in masterly strokes of shrewdness and pi- 
quancy. His coinage, like old Fuller's or Donne's, " rings 
like good metal." 

It is not, however, upon this fund, that I am now about to 
draw. I merely refer to it, as suggesting, if not warranting, the 
idea, that he who struck out such names and characters in his 
Allegories, must also have thrown out in his other writings, 
and in conversation, many smart things. This has, hitherto, 
been overlooked ; owing, perhaps, to the impression left upon 
his modern Critics, by the gravity ascribed to him by his an- 
cient Biographers. The latter saj-, " He was mild and affable 
in conversation ; not given to loquacity, or much discourse, 
unless some urgent occasion required. It was obverved, he 
never spoke of himself, or of his talents ; but seemed low in 
his own eyes. He was never heard to reproach or revile any, 
whatever injury he received ; but rather rebuked those who 
did so. It is well known, that he managed all things with 
such exactness, as if he had made it his study, above all other 
things, not to give offence." 

After this account of his temperament, wit seems out of the 
question ; and humour^ a contradiction in terms. Both exist, 
however, where they would never be suspected, except by a 
reader who was searching for them. Besides, it is not to wit, 
as mere waggery, humoin*, or playfulness ; but as a vein of 
point and power, that I refer : and, unless I mistake that vein 



358 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

egregiously, the following specimens of it, will justify the title 
of this Chapter ; and place Bunyan before the world in a light 
equally new and true. I must first, however, apply a stroke 
of his own wit to himself. He says that the thought of a 
Surgeon or a Bone-setter, if he have a hard heart, or fingers 
like iron, can make us quake for fear ; and he adds, " He 
that handleth a wound, had need have fingers like feathers, 
or like down. To be sure, the Patient wisheth they were so ! " 
—Vol. i. p. 157. fol. ed. 

Bunyan did not always recollect his own maxim, in hand- 
ling wounds. His heart is never hard ; but his hand is some- 
times rather too heavy. It was not iron ; but its " nails were 
as Eagles' claws," when strict Baptists, or extravagant Qua- 
kers, came under it. Then, his fingers are not feathers, nor 
his thumbs down. They are, indeed. Porcupine's quills, when- 
ever Bigotry or Cant falls in his way. 

When the strict Baptists assailed Bunyan for admitting and 
advocating open Communion, they told him, that " some of the 
sober Independents" disliked his Book on that subject. He 
archly asked, " What then ? I can say without lyin^, that 
several Baptists have wished your Book burnt, before it had 
come to light. Is your Book ever the worse for that ? " 

" The sober Dr. Owen," as he calls him, had promised to 
write " an Epistle," in favour of Bunyan's liberal views on this 
subject ; but afterwards declined to do so. Bunyan was pub- 
licly twitted with this "waiving" on the part of Owen. He 
nobly and promptly replied, " What if the sober Dr. Owen, 
though he told me and others, he would write an epistle to my 
book, yet waived it afterwards ? This also is to my advan- 
tage ; because it was through the earnest solicitations of seve- 
ral of you, that his hand was stopped at that time. And, per- 
haps, it was more for the glory of God, that Truth should go 
naked into the world, than seconded by so mighty an armour- 
bearer." — Worlcs, vol. iii. p. 1257. 

When Dr. Fowler, afterwards Bishop of Bristol, published 
his work on " The Design of Christianity," he gave this chal- 
lenge to the advocates of the great principle of the Reforma- 
tion — Justification through faith in Christ; — "What pretence 
can there be, that faith is the condition or instrument of justi- 
fication, as it complieth only with the precepts of relying on 
Christ's merits ? It is evident as the sun at noon-day, that 
obedience to the other precepts must go before obedience to 
this ; that is, before faith in Christ." Bunyan dryly and 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 359 

adroitly answered, — " This you say : but Paul said to the 
ignorant jailor, who knew nothing of the mind of God in the 
doctrine of Justification, that he should first believe on the 
Lord Jesus Christ, and so should be saved. Again, when he 
preached unto the Corinthians, i\\Q first doctrine he delivered 
unto them was, that Christ died for their sins, according to 
the Scriptures." 

Bunyan did not treat the Dignitary with less ceremony, on 
this occasion, than he did the Sectaries, who made light of 
sin, in order to give weight to new-fangled notions of Re- 
demption. " It is a poor shift," he said, " when the Enemies 
of Truth are forced to diminish sin, and to enlarge the borders 
of their Fig-leaf garments : they thus deny, as much as in 
them lies, one of the attributes of God ; — his justice." — Wroks, 
vol. i. p. 172. fol. ed. 

Bunyan could employ his ignorance dexterously, as well as 
any smattering of learning he had picked up, when occasion 
required. On one occasion the strict Baptists charged him 
with using against them the very " arguments of the Paedo- 
Baptist : " and as he had nothing to concede in favour of in- 
fants, and nothing to retract in favour of strict Communion- 
ists, he slyly slipt out of the dilemma, by saying truly, I in- 
geniously tell you, I know not what P^do means ; and how 
then should I know his arguments ? " He had also used a 
word or two of Latin (picked up, most likely, from some of his 
fellow-prisoners ; some of whom were scholars;) for which 
Danvers and Paul (his assailants) had "mocked " him. They 
"took nothing by their motion." "Though you mock me 
for speaking a word in Latin, you have not one word of God 
that commands you to shut out your Brethren for want of 
water-baptism, from your communion." They had said, " you 
would have it thought that you go away with the garland, un- 
less we bring positive Scriptures that your (plan) is forbidden." 
Garland, indeed : unhappy word for them ! Bunyan knew of 
no garlands but those which the priest of Jupiter hung around 
the necks of the oxen he wished to sacrifice to Paul and Bar- 
nabas ; and, with his knowledge of the Bible, he was sure to 
think of them. He did. " I know of no garlands,'''' he said, 
" but those in the Acts : — Take you them /" 

But nothing provoked Bunyan's sarcastic power, more than 
selfishness in the Clergy ; whether Episcopalian or Presbyte- 
rian. He makes his " teeth meet at every bite," upon bene- 
fice-hunters. " Would the people learn to be covetous," he 



260 LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 

says ; « they need but look to their Ministers, and they shall 
have a lively, or rather a deadly resemblance set before them, 
—in their riding and running after great Benetices and Par- 
sonages, by night and by day. Nay ; they amongst them- 
selves will scramhle for the same. I have seen, — that so soon 
as a man is departed from his Benefice (as he calls it,) either 
by death, or out of covetousness for a bigger ; we have had 
one Priest from this town, and another from that, so run after 
these tithe-cocks and handfuls of barley, as if it were their 
proper trade to hunt after the same." " I hope," he adds, 
" God will give me opportunity and a fair call, that I shall, a 
second time in this world, give testimony against your filthy 
conversation." He did so, and in poetry, addressed to Girls 
and Boys. 

TO THE CUCKOO. 

" Thou Booby, say'st thou nothing but Cuckoo ? 
The Robin and the Wien can thee outdo. 
They play to us, from out their httle throats, 
JNot one, but sundry, pretty tuneful notes. 
But thou hast Fellows ! Some like thee can do 
Nothing but suck our egg?^ and cry, Cuckoo /" 

Divine Emhlems. 

With not less severity could he lash another kind of wolves 
in sheep's clothing : — pretenders to supernatural visions and 
messages. " There are a company of dumb dogs crept into 
the nation, and they are every one for his gain from his 
quarter : and there are a company of wolves also crept out, 
wrapping themselves about with sheep's clothing." 

His promptness, as well as power, in repartee, never failed 
him upon emergencies. When Anne Blackly, the sister of 
Burroughs, the Quaker, called upon him to throw away the 
Scriptures, whilst preaching, " No," said he ; " for then the 
Devil would be too hard for me." Thus he complimented 
Anne's talents, and identified the use of them with the devil's, 
at the same time. Interruptions of this kind were often given 
to him in the pulpit. The Quakers, he sa5^s, " have told me 
to my face, that I use conjuration and witchcraft, because 
what I preached was according to the Scriptures. I myself 
have heard them blaspheme, with a grinning countenance, the 
doctrine of that Man's second coming from heaven above the 
stars, who was born of the Virgin Mary." Anne Blackly 
was the leader of these public interruptions. Bunyan was 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 361 

unwilling, for a time, to expose her to the world : but when 
Burroughs denied that any Quaker would condemn him for 
preaching according to the Scriptures, he published sister 
Anne's ravings, " as a warning to others." 

A friendly Quaker visiting him one day in Jail, introduced 
himself thus, " Friend Bunyan, the Lord hath sent me with a 
message to thee, and I have been searching for thee every- 
where." "Nay, Friend," said Bunyan, "if thy message to 
me had been from the Lord, he would have told thee where to 
find me ; for I have been long here." This reply gave rise 
probably to the similar one of Caffin. He was a farmer as 
well as a preacher, and thus suspected of paying tithes. A 
Quaker, therefore, came to him and said, " Matthew Caffin, I 
have a message from the Lord to thee : I am come to reprove 
thee for paying tithes to the priests, and to forbid thy doing 
so any more." " Thou art not sent of the Lord, but deceived,'' 
said Matthew, " for I never did pay tithes, nor am I likely to 
be charged with any." The farm was tithe -free to him. — 
Taylor^ s Gen. Baptists. 

One chief fund of Bunyan's wit lies where it has never been 
suspected ; in his " Divine Emblems for the use of Boys and 
Girls." There are whole sheaves of "polished shafts" hid 
in that little Book. He placed them there, he says, on the 
principle, 

" That 'tis the arro\'»^ out of sight 
Does not the Sleeper or the Watcher fright." 

He could not, however, keep his own secret. At least, he 
told too much in his Preface, not to forewarn, and thus fore- 
arm, some of the grown-up children of his times. He says, 

♦•The Title Page will show, if thou wilt look, 
Who arc the proper subjects of this book. 
They're boys and girls, of aW sorts and degrees, 
From those of a^^e, to children on the knees. 
Thus comprehensive am I in my notions. 
They tempt me to it, by their childish motions! 
We now have boys with beards, and girls that be 
Huge as old women, wanting gravity. 
Our bearded men, do act like beardless boys, 
Our tvomen please themselves with childish toys." 

It was, perhaps, necessary that he should be thus explicit, in 
order to sustain his own character amongst the wise and the 
31 



36^ LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

grave, when he played " the very Dotril," and cast his " beard 
behind a bush," to gain the ear of the heedless and trifling. 
Becoming all things, in order to gain some of the gay and 
foolish, was a hazardous attempt for a Minister, and hardly in 
keeping with the solemnities of imprisonment for conscience' 
sake. Bunyan felt this, and explained his motives thus ; 

"Our Ministers, long time, by word and pen, 
Dealt with them, counting them not boys^ but men. 
They shot their thunders at them and their toys ; 
But hit them not : for they are girls and boys. 
The better charged, the xvider stiW they shot; 
Or else so high, such Dwarfs they touched not. 
Instead of 7nen, they found them girls and boys, 
To nought addicted but their childish toys. 
Wherefore, Dear Reader, that I save them may, 
I now with them the very Dolril play ; 
And since at gravity they make a tush, 
My very beard I cast behind a bush. 
Paul seemed to play the fool, that he might gain 
Those that were Fools indeed, if not in grain. 
A noble act, and full of honesty ! " 

Preface to Emblems. 

In imitating this noble act, Bunyan often indulges his wit, as 
well as his fancy, and is grave and gay by turns. Of the 
Legalist, he says, 

' Our Legalist is like a nimble Top : 
Without a tohip, he will not duty do. 
Let Moses whip : he will both skip and hop ! 
Forbear to whip : he'll neither stand nor go ! " 

The Hypocrite, as may be supposed, finds no quarter from 
our sharp-shooter, in the Emblems. 

" The Frog, by nature, is both damp and cold. 
Her mouth is large ; her belly much can hold. 
She sits somewhat ascendirig : loves to be 
Croaking in gardens, though unpleasantly. 
The Hypocrite is like unto this Frog : 
As like — as is a puppy to a dog. 
He is of nature cold; his mouth is loidCy 
To prate, and at true goodness to deride. 
He mounts his head, as if he lived above. 
Although the iborld is that which has his love. 
And though he seeks in Churches for to croak, 
He neither loveth Jesus, nor his yoke." 



LIFE OF BUN YAN. 353 

The author of Mammon would not be ashamed of Bunyan's 
hits at mammonized professors, homely as they are. 

*' Those Saints whose eyes are always in their pocket, 
And Candles that do blink within the socket, 
Are much alike. Such Candles make us fumble ; 
And at sxich saints, good men and bad do stumble! 
Good candles don't offend, except sore eyes ; 
Nor hurt, unless it be the silly Flies." 

The Ostentatious fare no better than the niggardly, in the 
Emblems. 

" Some professing men, 
If they do aught that's good, they, like a Hen, 
Cannot but cackle on't, where'er they go ; 
And what their right hand doth, their left must know." 

Emblems, vol. ii. 

Bunyan's wit, although not much blunted by his rhyme, 
tells best in his prose. The most daring stroke of it, that I 
know is terrific. He had been asked, if it was likely that a 
funeral Sermon would be preached on the death of Badman ? 
** I doubt not," he said, " that some one will be found to burj' 
even Gog himself thus, in the valley of Hamon-Gog ! " It is 
a curious coincidence that, soon after, Dr. Tenison preached a 
funeral Sermon on the death of the notorious Nell Gwynn, one 
of the Mistresses of Charles II. The Earl of Jersey, very 
properly, started this fact, as a reason against Tenison's 
nomination to the Archbishopric of Canterbury. The Queen, 
however, overruled the objection, on the ground that the Dr. 
was too good a man to have spoken well of " the Protestant 
Courtezan," if she had not deserved it by her penitence. 
Tenison was so twitted for this Sermon by the Papists, (an 
exaggerated report of which was hawked through London. 
Biog. Brit.f) that he apprized the public of the incorrectness 
of the first printed report of it. I have never seen the Ser- 
mon in any form : but Nell's Will contains the appointment 
of Tenison as the preacher. She bequeathes a pulpit-cloth 
and cushion to his Church, St. Martin's-in-the-Fields ; and 
places at his disposal 150/. for the poor of the parish : fifty 
pounds of which are for the benefit of those from whom she 
diflfered in her religion, — the Romanists ! She was interred 
"with great solemnity," at St. Martin's-in-the-Fields. — Netc 
Monthly J 1838. The fact is, funeral Sermons were fashionable 
then. One Dignitary saved his conscience in preaching one 



364 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

for a worse character than Nell. He said, she was born well 
— lived icell — and died well; and then preached a sermon on 
Death. The fact is, the names of the towns in which she 
lived and died — ended in the syllable well! The Archbishop 
was not so fortunate as his contemporary. He had to take 
Nell Gwynn as he found her. 

Bunyan said of Badman's children, " They had, like Esau, 
to join in affinity with Ishmael ; to match, live, and die with 
Hypocrites : the Good would not trust them, because they 
were had in their lives ; and the Bad would not trust them, 
because they were good in their words. Their Father did 
not like them, because they had their Mother's tongue ; and 
their Mother did not like them because they had their Father^s 
heart and life : and thus they were not fit company for good or 
bad."— WorA;5, vol. ii. p. 876. 

When Bunyan borrowed a sharp arrow from another man's 
quiver, he shot it well. "As Luther says, ^ In the name of 
God,^ — ^begins all mischief; for Hypocrites have no other way 
to bring their evils to maturity, but by mixing the name of God 
and Religion with them. So Master Cheat stands for a right 
honest man. Some are arch-villains in this way. They use 
the white of Religion to hide the dirt of their actions." — WorkSf 
vol. ii. p. 900. 

" He is ' penny wise and pound foolish,' they say, * who 
loseth a good ship for a halfpenny worth of tar : ' what then is 
he who loseth his soul for a little of tliis world?" — Worksy. 
vol. ii. p. 901. 

" The Holy War " abounds with sparkling Wit, as well as 
with profound metaphysics. It is, altogether, " a witty inven- 
tion," which verifies the proverb, that " Wisdom dwells with 
Prudence." Mr. Conscience^ the Recorder of Mansoul, was 
" put out of place by Diabolus," Bunyan says, " because he 
was a seeing man : wherefore he darkened him, not only by 
taking from him his office, but by building a high and strong 
Tower between the sun, and the windows of the Recorder's 
house." Lord Will-he-will also, was, he says, " as high-horny. 
and even more a freeholder than many ; having privileges 
peculiar to himself in Mansoul. Now together with these, he 
was a man of great strength, resolution, and courage ; nor in 
his occasion could any turn him. A headstrong man he was! 
He was the frst to listen to Diabolus at Eargate, and to weK 
come him into the town. Diobolus, therefore, made him 
Keeper of all the Gates, and Qovernpr of the Wall ; and then, 



A 



LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 365 

next to the Devil himself, — who but my Lord Will-be-will, in 

all the town of Mansoul ! When this power was put into his 

hands, he flatly denied that he owed any suit or service to his 

former Prince. He maligned the Recorder to death, and 

would shut his eyes when he happened to see him, and his ears 

when he heard his voice. He could not endure that so much 

as a fragment of the Laws of Shaddai should be seen any. 

where in all the town. Mr. Mind, his Clerk, had some old 

parchments of the Law ; but Will-be-will cast them behind 

his back. He also tried to come at some old scraps of the 

Law, which Mr. Conscience had in his study ; but he could 

not get them, owing to the windows of the old Lord Mayor's 

house. These windows, he thought by far too light for the 

profit of Mansoul. He would also make himself aJ/ec^ amongst 

any base and rascally crew, to cry up Diabolus. His Deputy, 

Mr. Affection^ he married to Miss Carnal : < like to like,' quoth 

the Devil to the Collier. And when he appointed thirteen 

men Aldermen for Mansoul, Mr. Incredulity was the oldest, 

and Mr. Atheism the youngest. As for the Common Council 

Men, they were all cousins or nephews of the Aldermen." 

It is needless to say that this is wit of the highest order ; 
and the more remarkable, inasmuch as it is struck out from 
abstract qualities and personified passions. Montgomery says 
of such impersonations, that there arises from their very con- 
stitution " one grand disadvantage ; — the reader almost cer- 
tainly ybre^ees what such typical beings will do, say, or suffer, 
according to the circumstances in which they are placed." 
This is only too true of *' most of the creatures of imagination, 
that figure away in formal Allegories." — Essay on the Pilgrim's 
Progress. Some of Bunyan's impersonations of both Powers 
and Passions are, however, exceptions to this remark. « The 
Poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling," may \\z.Ye foreseen all the 
freaks of Lord Will-be-will, and all the fits of Mr. Conscience, 
when Diabolus got into Mansoul ; but ordinary eyes are 
agreeably surprised at some of both. Bunyan himself ^^won. 
dered to see Lord Will-be-will take neither the one side nor 
the other in the quarrel between Lord Understanding and Old 
Incredulity, when Mr. Prejudice was kicked in the streets, 
and Mr. Anything had one of his legs broken. His Lordship 
even smiled to see old Prejudice tuml)Ied up and down in the 
mud ; and took but little notice when Captain Anything came 
limping up to him. It made me laugh,^* says Bunyan, " to see 
how old Mr. Prejudice was kicked and tumbled about by the 
31» 



366 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

mob, when they had got him under their feet. He had his 
crown cracked, to boot, by some of Lord Understanding's 
party." — Holy War, p. 91. 

Bunyan's readers laugh with him, at not a few of the turns 
of popular feeling in Mansoul, as well as at the caprices of 
Lord Will-be-will. Both tears and smiles await his Lordship, 
whilst he is keeping Lent. Not until Lent was almost outy 
did he venture to hire Lasciviousness as a lacquey ; and then 
only under the name of Harmless-Mirth ! — Holy War, p. 231. 
Mr. Godly Fear also wins much sympathy from the reader. 
He hired the masked Diabolian, Lord Anger, under the name 
of Good-Zeal ; but soon found him out. " The old gentleman 
took pepper in the nose, and turned him out of the house^ 
and would have hanged him for his labour had he not run 
away." Young Captain Experience also is a favourite. The 
Hell-drum could not daunt him, until Captain Credence stum- 
bled and fell, in the great battle with the Doubters. He fought 
as by instinct, even when he supposed Credence to be dead ; 
and only quitted the field through loss of blood. Accord- 
ingl)'-, although his wounds were not half healed when the 
next battle came on, the moment he heard the Trumpets 
sound, and saw Captain Credence at the head of the Prince's- 
army again, '< what does he but, calling for his crutches with 
haste, gets up and away to the battle ? But when the enemy 
saw the man come with his crutches, they were daunted ; for, 
thought they, what spirit possessed these Mansoulians, that 
they fight upon their very crutches ? " — Holy War, p. 297. 

Some of Bunyan's finest siroJces occur in the Trial of old 
Questioning, who harboured the four Doubters in his " tot- 
tering cottage," in Mansoul, after the rout of their army. 
The first was an Election-Doubter : the second, a Vocation- 
Doubter ; the third, a Salvation-Doubter : the fourth, a Grace- 
Doubter. These were all welcome to him. « Be of what Shire 
ye may," (Blind-maw-shire or Blind-2;e«Z-shire!) he said, "you 
are town-hoys ; you have the length of my foot, and are one 
with my heart. I would there were ten thousand well-armed 
Doubters now in Mansoul, and myself at the head of them f 
I would see what I could do. But, be quiet and close, or you 
will be snapt, I assure you. If Will-be-will, who is now Keeper 
of the Gate, light upon you, down you go, if your heads were 
gold." 

Old Questioning was "indicted by the name of Evil-Quea- 
tioiiiDg," He took his first objection to this, as a misnomer :— - 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 367 

" which name," he said, " I deny to be mine : mine being 
Honest Inquiring. Your Lordships know that between these 
two there is a wide difference. I hope a man may make honest 
inquiry even in the worst of times, and that too among the 
worst men, without running the danger of death." Lord Will, 
be-will defeated this shift, by telling the Court, with deep 
shame, that the prisoner and he had been " great acquaintance 
for thirty years ; " and that in the time of the Rebellion, Evil. 
Questioning had " lain at his house not so little as twenty 
nights together," talking as he had lately with tlie four Doubt, 
ers. This settled his identity. He then pleaded, that it was 
not lawful to condemn a man on the testimony of owe witness. 
Mr. Diligence, therefore, proved that he had been on watch 
in Bad-Street, where Questioning's tottering cottage stood, and 
had overheard all the conversation which took place with the 
Doubters. " Then, said Evil-Questioning, ' the men that 
came into my house were Strangers, and I took them in. And 
is it now become a crime in Mansoul, for a man to entertain 
strangers ? That I nourished them is true : but why should 
my charity be blamed ? I also bid them take heed that they 
fell not into the Captain's hands : but that inight be — because 
I am unwilling that any man should be slain, and not because 
I would have the King's enemies, as such, escape. I might 
too mean tcell to Mansoul, for aught any one knows yet, when 
I wished there were ten thousand Doubters in it.' These 
evasions only hurried on his sentence. They proved him to 
be, beyond ail doubt, a Diabolian. And he completed tho 
proof by saying, < I see how the game will go. I must die for 
my name, and for my charity ! ' And so held his peace. He 
was hanged at the top of Bad-Street, just over his own door." 
—Holy War, p. 321. 

Bunyan's stroke at Spira is too solemn to be called wit ; 
but it is power of a peculiar kind. I know not what to call 
it. " The burden of Spira's complaint was," he says, *♦ * I 
cannot repent ; O, now, I cannot do it f This man sees what 
he hath done — what would help him — what will become of 
him ; but he cannot repent. He had pulled away his shoulder,, 
and shut his eyes before ; — and in that very posture God left 
him, and so he stands to this day ! " He adds, <' I have a fancy 
that Lot's wife was looking over her shoulder towards Sodom, 
when she was turned into a pillar of salt : — as the Judgment 
caught her, so it bound her." — Works, vol. ii. p. 1147. 

He can be somewhat playful with a serious subject, without 



368 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

the least approach to levity. Thus ; *• no man could tell so 
well as Jonah what he saw and felt in the Whale's belly : for 
no man else was ever there, and came out ajjain. So the 
returning Backslider can tell strange stories ; and yet such as 
are very true!" — Works, vol. ii. p. 671. Again, "the old 
way to Paradise is hedged and ditched up by the flaming 
sword of Cherubim ; and there is no hack door." — Works, vol. 
iii. p. 1675. Even of Heaven, he could say with an innocent 
smile, " I see no reason why we should be idle there. The 
fishes in the sea drink ; but they drink and swim,''^ at the same 
time. " And what if our work in heaven be, to receive, and 
bless? But for further discourse of that, — let it alone till we 
come thither." — Woi-ks, vol. iii. p. 1748. 

Some of his strokes at Antichrist are as beautiful as others 
of them are bold. The following one is inimitably fine : " The 
signs of Antichrist's y«Z/ are terrible and amazing ! But what 
of that ? The wrinkles in his face threaten not us, but him. 
Our cold blasts are but ihe farewell notes of a piercing Win- 
ter. They bring with them signs and tokens of a comfortable 
Summer. His are like cold blasts in November ; worse than 
colder in March and April. The Church is now at the rising 
(the Spring) of the year. We should, therefore, look through 
these paper windows, and espy in all that we fear, the terrible 
judgments which are following at his heels." — Works, vol. iv. 
p. 1912. 

The covetousness and ambition of Popery put Bunyan 
upon his mettle. He says, " Money, money, ' broken or whole,^ 
as the Pedlar cries, is the sinews of their religion. For that, 
they have kicked off the crowns of Princes, and set them on 
again with their toes!^^ — WorA:*, vol. iv. p. 1908. Again; 
" Antichrist is the adversary of Christ : an adversary really ; 
a friend pretendedly. He is one that is against Christ ; and 
for Christ ; and contrary to Christ. This is the Mystery of 
Iniquity ! Against Him in deed ; for Him in word ; contrary 
to Him in practice. He is so proud as to go before Christ ; 
so humble as to pretend come after Christ ; and so audacious 
as to say that himself is Christ. Antichrist will cry up 
Christ ; cry down Christ ; proclaim himself one with Christ. 
But the dogs who eat the crumbs of Christ's table shall so 
hunt and scour Antichrist about, even although the tushes of 
his chops tear them, that they will have his life." — Works^ 
vol. iv. p. 1858. 

Some of Bunyan's guesses about the fall of Antichrist, were 



LIPEOFBUNYAN. 369 

almost prophetic, as well as witty. "The Protestants in 
France," he says, " had more favour with their Prince for- 
merly, than they have at this time. Yet I doubt not, that 
God will make that Horn hate the whore. Antichrist shall 
not doiim, but by the hand of Kings. The Preacher kills her 
soul, and the King kills her body. Spirit can only be slain 
by spirits." — Works y vol. iv. p. 1858. 

I make no apology for prolonging this Chapter. Bunyan's 
wit has hitherto been overlooked, except by hooh-worms like 
myself; or illustrated only from the Pilgrim's Progress. It 
ought, however, to have currency. It is calcuated to do much 
good. " The men of Hezekiah " would have " copied out," 
as I have done, many of his Proverbs, just as they did Solo- 
mon's, for public usefulness. What is there, in any language, 
more delicate or delicious than Bunyan's offered reward for 
the arrest and death of Carnal-Sense, in Mansoul ? This 
enemy of the city had, somehow, escaped from prison, and 
like a ghost, was haunting " honest men's houses a-night.'* 
" Wherefore a Proclamation was set up in the market-place, 
signifying that whosoever should discover Carnal-Sense, and 
apprehend him, and slay him, should be admitted daily to the 
Prince's Table, and made Keeper of the treasure of Man- 
soul." He was o//e?i discovered; "but slay him they could 
not," although " many Lent themselves to do this thing." 
They laid Mr. Wrong-thoughts-of- Christ in prison, so that " he 
died of a consumption," and kept Live-by -Feeling and Legal- 
Life in durance, which killed them ; but Carnal. Sense, like 
Mr. Unbelief, " was a nimble jack they could never lay hold 
of, though they attempted to do it often." — Holy "War, p. 328. 

This is almost equalled by the following : " Self-Love was 
taken and committed to custody : but there were many allied 
to him in Mansoul ; so his judgment was deferred. But at 
last, Mr. Self-Denial stood up and said, * If such villains as 
these may be winked at in Mansoul, — I will lay down my Com- 
mission ! ' He also took him from tlie crowd, and had him 
among his soldiers ; and there he was brained. Some in 
Mansoul muttered at this ; but none durst speak plainly, be- 
cause Emmanuel was in the town. This brave act came to 
the ears of the Prince ; so he sent for Self-Denial and made 
him a ZiOr<Z in Mansoul." — Hdy War, p. 329. 

These specimens of Bunyan's vein will, I hope, tempt not 
a few to go into his mine for themselves. I have gone through 
it with some care,and have left the lamps burning which guided 



370 L I F E O F B U N Y A N . 

me. Let me say, however, to the young, that, although there 
be no foul air in the Mine, they must take with them the Safety, 
lamp of Discretion, if they M^ould breathe even as freely as I 
have done, or walk as far safely. There is no levity in Bun- 
yan : but he has some whims and crotchets of the brain ; which, 
however innocent in themselves, are not suited to our times, 
nor in good taste even for his own times. I will not illustrate 
this ; but finish the Chapter with a specimen of his wit, which 
is only a fair sample of his accurate observation of Nature, and 
of his acuteness in turning facts into lessons. He says of 
Bishop Fowler, that he " stridles over the Atonement like a 
spider skipping over a wasp^ and twists against Faith like an 
eel on angle." — Orig. Copy, 1671. 



4 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 371 



CHAPTER XXXV. 

bunyan's conceits. 

BuNYAN spiritualized so much, and in general so well, that 
it is only fair to separate between his ingenious guesses, and 
his whimsical fancies. True ; they run into each other often, 
and thus are inseparable upon his pages. But still, his whims 
did not warp his judgment, nor taint his theology, nor give 
any wrong bias to his conduct ; and therefore they may now 
be fairly represented as nothing but whims and crotchets of a 
teeming brain, which neither a good conscience nor a pure 
heart could always detect or avoid. 

" The Tower of Lebanon" confronted, he says, " Damas- 
cus, the chief city of the King of Assyria, to show that the 
Church is raised up to confront Antichrist." He found also 
in the three rows of Pillars, on which the House of the Forest 
of Lebanon stood, the three Mediatorial Offices of Christ, 
which /'bear up the Church before the World." But there 
were fifteen pillars in each Row ; and fifteen is no mystic 
number ! This set him fast for a time. " I can say no 
further than I can see," he says. But he did not like to be 
baffled. He recollected that there was a reserve of seven 
thousand, who had not bowed the Knee to Baal, " when that 
fine one, Jezebel, afflicted the Church ;" and therefore he says, 
fourteen of the fifteen pillars were a reserve in each Row ; so 
that if three should be destroyed, there would still be three 
times fourteen behind. Thus he comforted himself, that 
Antichrist, however he might cut off and kill the Witnesses, 
could never destroy all the pillars of the Church. 

The Mist which watered the face of the ground in Eden, 
before rain fell, was a type, he says, " that there is sufficiency 
of light, even where there is not the word of the Gospel, to 
teach men to govern themselves in civil and natural society. 
But this," he adds, " is only a mist" from the earth, not rain 
from Heaven. 



372 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

He finds a parallel between the hundred and fifty daysj 
during which " the waves of the Flood had no pity on Noah," 
and the apocalyptic period of the Scorpions ; and thus, a clue 
to the duration of the persecution in his own times. Noah's 
sons, also, journeying westward from Ararat, and thus, " turn- 
ing their back upon the Sunrising^^^ were types of the primitive 
Church, and the Restoration Church, declining from the Sun 
of Righteousness : and their halt in the plain of Shinar, was 
" a right resemblance of degeneracy from apostolic doctrine, 
to the Church of Romish Babylon. What would Bunyan 
have said of the Oxford Tract School ! " Moses," he says, 
" was a type of his own Law : for as his milk-white bosom 
could not change the swarthy skin of his Ethiopian wife, 

So he that doth the Law for life adore, 
Shall yet by it, be left a blackamoorJ' 

The Apocalyptic hail-stones which are to fall on Babylon, 
weighed a talent ; and as that is just the weight of the lead 
laid over the Ephah, which was prepared for the woman. 
Wickedness (Zech. v. 6), he says that the hailstones show 
that Rome is to get no more good out of the Ephah, but only 
heavy judgments. He hated the Scarlet Lady most heartily; 
and hoped to see her funeral before his death. " She is now 
dying," he says ; therefore " let us ring her passing-bell. 
When she is dead, we who live to see it, intend to 7'ing out /" 
Had she died before him, not all his prejudices against bell- 
ringing, nor his old fears of the beam in Elstow Church 
Tower, would have prevented him from having another pull at 
the ropes ! 

He finds the Gospel-Net in the net-work of the Temple ; 
and as that work had four hundred Pomegranates hung upon 
it, he says, " This was to show that the Gospel-Net was not 
empty, but baited with grace and glory to catch sinners." 
•* The alluring bait, of old, was ' milk and honey.' With that 
Moses drew the Jews into the wilderness : but we have Pome- 
granates — two rows of them — grace and glory, — as the bait 
of the holy gospel. No wonder then if, when men of skill 
cast that Net, great numbers of fish were caught. The 
Apostles baited their nets with taking things." 

Bunyan is not always least wise, when he is most fanciful. 
" The Temple," he says, " was widest upward. All other 
houses were widest downward. But an inch above is worth 
an ell below. Those who are nearest the earth are narrow- 



LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 373 

spirited. The temple was narrowest downward, to show that 
a little of the earth, or of this world, should content us. Thus 
the temple, like a lovely picture, speaks by its form to all 
Christians, and says, ' Be ye enlarged upwards.' " 

The Porch of the Temple, he says, was for strangers and 
Beggars ; and therefore it was higher than either the Holy or 
the Holiest Place, that it might be seen afar off. So the 
charity of the Church should be as high as the Church steeple, 
that all may see it ; as the Porch was four times higher than 
the temple itself. 

The Golden Snuffers for trimming the lamps and candle- 
sticks signify, he says, Church discipline ; reproofs, rebukes, 
and admonitions, for edification. " It is not, therefore, every 
one that should handle the snuffers ^ lest instead of mending 
the light, they put out the candle. Paul bids them that are 
< spiritual' do it. Strike at the snuff, not at the light, in all 
your rebukes. Snuft' not your lamps for a private revenge, 
but to nourish grace. Curb vice, but nourish virtue. Use 
golden Snuffers (the laws of Christ) ; not your own fingers, 
or carnal reasonings, but godly admonitions." Thus there is 
more wisdom than whim in some of Bunvan's fancies : and 
many such things are with him. 

He was somewhat of a Millennarian, although not in the 
vulgar sense of that word, as used then or now. His " New 
Jerusalem" was not so like the old city as Irving's ; and there 
was no Vennerism ?ii all in it. Still Bunyan doated not a 
little on the seventh thousand years of the world, as well as 
dreamt of them. One of his strong reasons for this was, — 
that " Enoch, the seventh from Adam, being the first prophet 
of the Resurrection, was thus a type of the seventh thousand 
years in which the Lord will reign with his Church !" We 
may smile at this " strong reason ;" but it is quite as valid as 
some modern theories of the first Resurrection. Bunyan was, 
however, no drivelling dreamer about the Millennium. " Its 
glory will be," he says, " mostly, yea principally, in heavenly 
and spiritual things ; such as faith, love, and experience of 
God, Grace, and Clirist. It grates too near the ground, for 
me to rejoice or believe that the glory (of the latter Day) will 
consist in outward or carnal things ! Can it be imagined that 
the chief glory the Gentiles shall bring to the Jews, after six- 
teen hundred years warming in the bosom of Christ, should 
consist in outward trumpery ? Would this be a suitable medi- 
cine to the eyes of a wounded people, as the Jews will be," 
32 



374 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

when they shall look on Him they have pierced? — Works, vol, 
iv. p. 2401. 

It will be recollected that Bunyan did not avail himself of 
the Great Laver in the temple, to support his own views of 
Baptism : he found a type of them, however, in the Deluge ! 
" The Flood," he says, " was a type of three things. First, of 
the enemies of the Church. Second, a type of the water -hap- 
tism under the New Testament. Third, of the last overthrow 
of the world. He refers, of course, to 1 Pet. iii. 20, 21, where 
Noah's family are said to have been " saved by water." Bun- 
yan may be forgiven this mistake. There were not so many 
goods se7it by water, in his time, as to suggest to him that on 
the water, is meant. — Works, vol. iv. p. 2531. 

I do not know how this passage is applied by Baptists in 
general : but there is a paper in the Baptist Magazine for 
1816, signed W. N. Stepney, from which it appears that King 
James must have taken a similar view of the flood. He said 
in his speech on the Gunpowder plot, in 1605, " God did by a 
general deluge and overflowing of waters Baptize the world 
to a general destruction, and not to general purgation." W. 
N. says, " the figurative use of the word baptize, in this pas- 
sage, strongly conveys the idea of immersion." And it cer- 
tainly does : but of immersion by down-pouring- The King 
said also in the same speech, in reference to the attempt upon 
his life in youth, in Scotland, " I should have been baptized in 
blood." The writer quotes this expression also ; but not to 
balance the former. He argues, indeed, as if both conveyed 
the idea of immersion. And if James meant that, W. N. 
might well say, " yet it is a remarkable fact, that in the reign 
of this monarch immersion began to be superseded, as we learn 
from Sir John Floyer." It is really difficult to say whether 
such criticisms on the Verb by Baptists, or similar ones on the 
Prepositions by Psedobaptists, be folly or crime. 

There is wit as well as whim in his personification of Rome, 
when " that slut ran away with the name" of the spouse, and 
set herself up as Dame of the world, and Mistress in the 
Church. " Then, she turned all things topsy-turvy in the 
House. She would have an altar like Tiglath Pileser's. The 
Lord's brazen Altar must be removed from its old place, and 
the molten sea taken off from the backs of the brazen oxen 
(where Solomon set it) and set on a pavement of stone," 
" Solomon ! Alas, Solomon is nobody now ! This Woman is 
wiser in her own conceits than seven men that can render a 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 375 

reason. Now the court of the Sabbath must be turned to the 
use of the King of Assyria !" This was bold language, at the 
time ; for it was intelligible then. It is so still to those who 
know the King, and Gunning, and Sheldon, well. Bunyan, 
however, seldom shot mystical arrows at " high places." 

There is, perhaps, no conceit of his more amusing than the 
defences of Eargate, when Mansoul was summoned to sur- 
render by Boanerges. The Town had planted over Eargate 
two great-guns, the one called High-mind, and the other 
Heady. They were cast by one Mr. Puff-up, Diabolus's own 
founder, in the castle ; and mischievous pieces they were ! 
Old Mr. Prejudice (an angry and ill-conditioned fellow) was 
made Captain of the ward of that gate, and sixty men, called 
Deaf Men were put under him : men advantageous to that 
service, inasmuch they mattered not what either captains or 
soldiers said ! — Holy War, p. 74. 

The Prefaces, as well as the Titles, of Books, were often 
whimsical in Bunyan's day : but the only odd one of his, that 
I recollect, is that to his Treatise on the Water of Life ; and 
it, although odd, is striking, " Courteous Reader, thou 
mayest, if thou wilt, call this Book, ' Bunyan's Bill of his 
Master^ s Water of Life.^ True ; I have not set forth, at 
large, the excellent nature and quality thereof : nor can that 
be done by the pen or tongue of men or angels. But as men 
in their Bills, for the conviction of readers, do give an account 
to the Country of the persons cured by liquors and prepara- 
tions made for that end, so could I, were it not done already 
to my hand by Holy Writ. Many of the Cured, indeed, are 
removed from hence, and live where they cannot be spoken 
with as yet ; but abundance of them remain here, and have 
their abode with men. If thou wouldst drink of this water, 
drink it by itself. And that thou mayest not be deceived by 
the counterfeit, know that the true is 'clear as crystal.' I 
know that there are many Mountebanks in the world, and 
every one of them pretends to have this water to sell. But 
my advice is, — go directly to the Throne" from whence it 
proceeds. — Wo7-ks, vol. ii. p. 1172. The Treatise did not 
need a Preface of this kind ; but it admitted of such a one : 
for he acknowledged that he has allegorized, in that Work. 
He meant by Allegory, in it, however, such comparisons as the 
following : " This is the wholesomest water in the world. 
You may take it at the third, sixth, ninth, or eleventh hour ; 
but to take it in the morning of your age is best ; for then 



376 LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 

diseases have not so great a head." — P. 1200. « Epsom Tun- 
bridge^ and Bath waters, may be common ; but they are a 
great way off: yet those who are loth to die make provision 
to have their dwellings by those waters." — Pp. 1177, 1204. 
"He that stands on the banks of the River of Life, and 
washeth his eyes with the water, may see the stars of God ; 
as in fair waters, a man may see the very body of the 
heavens."— P. 1197. « The Water is sometimes muddied by 
false glosses and sluttish opinions. This is apparent enough 
by the very hue of some poor souls. The very stain of Tradi- 
tion may be seen in their scales. For as the Fish of the river 
receive the changeable colours of the waters, so Professors 
look like the doctrines they drink. If their doctrines are 
muddy, their notions are muddy. If their doctrines are bloody, 
their tempers are bloody."— P. 1197. « Art thou a fish, man? 
Art thou a fish ? Canst thou live in the River of the water 
of Hfe ? Is grace thy proper element ? I know there are 
some things besides fish, that can make a shift to live in the 
water. But not in the water only. The frog and the otter 
can live in it, but not in it only. Give some men grace and 
sin, grace and the world, and they will make a pretty good 
shift to live : but, hold them to grace only,~^put them into the 
River, and let them have nothing but river, and they die !"— 
Works, vol. ii. p, 1179. This, if not allegory, is something 
better. 

Bunyan can be odd and awful ; singular and solemn, at the 
same time. "A Christian bridles his lusts: but it is no 
strange thing to see Professors bridled and saddled, yea ridden 
by the very Devil from lust to sin, and from one vanity to 
another."— Vol. iv. p. 2154. "There is a profession that 
stands with an unsanctified heart and life : but the sin of 
such will overpoise their salvation. The sin-end being the 
heaviest end of the scale, they tilt over into perdition, not- 
withstanding their glorious profession."— P. 2151. "SirSj 
give me leave to set my Trumpet to your ears a little. A 
prating tongue will not unlock the gates of heaven nor blind 
the eyes of the judge. Look to it ! Covetous Professor, that 
usest religion to bring grist to thy mill,— look to it ! Christian, 
take heed that no sin in thy life goes unrepented of. That 
will make a fiaw in thy evidences— a wound in thy conscience 
—-a breach in thy peace ; and, a hundred to one, "if it do not 
drive all the grace in thee into so dark a corner of thy heart, 
that thou shalt not be able for a time to find it out for thy 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 377 

comfort, even by all the torches that are burning in the Gos- 
pel."— P. 2180. 

Some of these hints and illustrations are anything but con- 
ceits. The form of them is singular, but the spirit of them is 
both philosophical and heart-searching. I have introduced 
them in this Chapter, however, in order to show the cast of 
Bunyan's mind. He is never odd, for the sake of mere 
peculiarity ; nor whimsical, from levity. Even when he is 
vulgar, he is either not at all aware of it, or it is in order to 
" gain" the vulgar. When he puns, it is to point a maxim, 
not to win a smile. He stoops, only to conquer. He himself 
knew well both his modes and his motives, and sung, 

* As for the inconsldorableness 
Of things, by which I do my mind express, 
May I by them but brin^ some good to pass, 
As Samson with the jaw-bone of an ass, 
Or as brave Shamgar with his ox's goad, 
(Both things unmanly, nor for war in mode) 
I have my end, though I myself expose ; 
For God will have the glory at the close." 

Works, vol. ii. p. 955. 

He said all this better, as well as more briefly, when he ex- 
claimed on one occasion, " Bear with my plainness when I 
speak against sin : — I would strike it through with every word, 
because, else, it will strike us through with many sorrows." — 
Works, vol. iv. p. 2118. 

I am not apologizing for Bunyan, but merely explaining, in 
these remarks upon his style. Let his style be criticized, even 
in my pages, where its peculiarities abound ; and, alas, for the 
critic ! He will be pitied, however Bunyan may be blamed. 
D'Aubigne's apology for Luther will be verified by readers ; — 
" We must accustom ourselves to find him sometimes using 
expressions too coarsely vituperative for modern taste. It was 
the custom of the time. But we generally find even in those 
words which shock our notions of propriety in language, a 
suitableness and strength which redeem their harshness." — 
Hist. Great Reformation, vol. i. p. 316, 



32* 



378 LIFEOFBUNYAK 



CHAPTER XXXVI. 

bfnyan's church persecute dv 

1670. 

The chief persecution of his own friends, Bunyan himself 
has nowhere told, — so far as I am aware ; although his anec- 
dotes of local Informers are very explicit. In 1670, howevery 
his people were much harassed by mean Informers, and meaner 
Magistrates, overstraining the Conventicle Act, — if that be 
possible. That Act was revived in 1669, with new clauses^, 
and received the royal assent in April, 1670. Neal says of it, 
"The wit of man could hardly invent any thing short of 
capital punishment, more cruel or inhuman." This is true ; 
and therefore Neal ought not to have expressed any wonder 
that either Charles II. or his conclave, should have agreed to 
it. Both would have agreed to anything hostile to Noncon- 
formity, which public opinion would have allowed them to per- 
petrate ; — the King, from reckless levity ; and the Court, 
from reckless revenge. Even the Parliament joined issue with 
them, and introduced a clause into the Conventicle Act, " that 
if any dispute should arise in regard to the interpretation of 
any part of the act, the Judges should always e^xplain the 
doubt in the sense least favourable to conventicles ; it being 
the intention of Parliament entirely to suppress them." Hume 
himself says of this clause, that the Commons " violated the 
plainest and most established maxims of civil policy, — which 
require that, in all criminal prosecutions, favour should always 
be given to the prisoner." — Hume, vol. vii. p. 457. 

In the space of one month, this Act began to be enforced 
upon Bunyan's friends, " in and near the town of Bedford," 
while he himself was a prisoner in Bedford Jail. This ap- 
pears from a Narrative published that very year. I have the 



LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 379 

original before me, which bears date 1670. It has long been 
a rare Pamphlet, and borne a rare price, although extending 
only to fifteen pages. 

The noble conduct of the sufferers, and even of the mob, as 
evinced in the following extracts, will be the more intelligible, 
by the reader bearing in mind, that Bunyan was present at 
all the church-meetings of his flock that year. This appears 
from the Church-book, at Bedford. And it is well known, that 
the Jailor gave him great liberties. The people were thus 
both counselled and encouraged by him, to take "joyfully the 
spoiling of their goods." 

They had met for worship on Sabbath, at the house of " one 
John Fen, a Haberdasher of Hats ;" when two Apparitors ob- 
tained a warrant from Justice Foster, to enter the house, and 
arrest them. Accordingly, these officials of the spiritual Court, 
West and Feckham, forced them before the magistrate ; who 
fined them all, and committed the preacher to prison. Thus 
Foster's work ended for that day. Next day, however, he 
had to fine both a Church-warden and a Constable five pounds 
each, for refusing to assist the spiritual functionaries in dis- 
training the goods of their nonconformist neighbours. — P. 4. 

Still, the game was only beginning. Battison, another 
Churchwarden, tried to levy a fine of ten pounds upon a Malt, 
ster ; but none of the Constables would help to break open the 
door of the Malt-house. The mob also tied a cow^s tail to his 
back ; and so hooted and hallooed him, that he was glad to 
leave Bardolf, the maltster, for a time. 

He was not much more successful at Covington's, the 
Grocer, where he had only to distrain for five shillings* 
Battison himself had to seize a brass kettle ; for iione of the 
officers would distrain. Indeed, the worthy Warden had to 
wait " two hours," before sixpence would bribe a boy to carry 
the kettle to his Inn. Even when it reached the Inn, neither 
Master nor Servants would allow it to enter the yard ; but set 
it out in the street ; and there it stood, until an overseer 
caused a beggar woman to carry it away at night. — P. 4. 
Thus ended another day of the sjriritual Court's crusade at 
Bedford : a brass kettle was all the spoil ! 

Next day, however, their worships, the Justices, " under- 
standing how Battison was discouraged in his work by the 
backwardness of the other officers, and the open discounte- 
nance of the other people, commanded the doors to be broken 
open, and to levy the distresses ; and promised to bear them 



380 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

harmless. Immediately old Battison, with a file of soldiers. 
in the middle of market-time, advanced again to the Malt- 
House, and breaks open the doors : but not without long time 
and trouble; all the people refusing to lend either bars or 
hammers. Fourteen quarters of Malt were distrained : but it 
was night before he could carry them away ; for although the 
market-place was thronged with Porters, yet none of them 
would assist. They left their fares ; some of them saying, 
' they would be hung, drawn, and quartered, before they would 
assist in that work.' For which cause the Justices committed 
two of them (all they could catch) to the jail." So ended the 
second crusade of the spiritual Court ! 

" Next day, being Lord's Day, the fines were doubled upon 
the Meeters, by another warrant from Foster," and the 
Meeters were forced into the Swan Inn, where they were kept 
from "ten of the clock in the morning, till four of the clock in 
the afternoon." Then their names were taken by the Justices, 
and themselves set at liberty. " Next morning Mr. Foster, 
the Justice (he was also the Commissary^s deputy), appears 
early in the streets, with old Battison and the two Apparitors, 
a file of soldiers, and some constables, to see the fines levied 
upon the Meeter's goods." He sent also for many of the 
Tradesmen to assist him in his holy war : but, Lo, " most of 
the tradesmen, journeymen, labourers and servants" had either 
left the town or hid themselves, to avoid his call. The worthy 
Deputy found the Town " so thin of people, that it looked 
more like a country village than a Corporation ; and the shops 
being generally shut down, it seemed like a place visited with 
the Pest, where usually is written upon the door, ' Lord have 
mercy upon us.' " — P. 6. It was, remember, Bunyan's flock 
which had this mighty influence upon their neighbours. 
Bedford thought, and rightly, that it was discredit enough 
for the town, to have Bunyan himself in prison. 

Foster's first attempt was at a Cutler's : but the house 
being " visited with small-pox, the officers declined entering." 
From hence he went to a Shoemaker's ; and, besides levying 
for five shillings, imposed another fine of one shilling, because 
Crispin would not say whether or not he " had been at Church 
the day before." Then a Heel-maker was deprived of three 
carts' load of heel and last wood ; of more value than any of 
his household goods. This was taken, to pay a fine of two 
pounds. Next a Tanner had his " best wearing coat dis- 
trained by the immediate order of Mr. Foster," for a fine of 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 381 

five shillings incurred, not by himself, but by his " better half." 
Then the Blacksmith lost all his anvils, as well as many locks 
and shovels, and would have had his " forge-bellows pulled 
down, if Battison's itch for better prices in other places had 
not called him off. 

The Thermopylae of this grand field day, to Foster, was at 
the Pipe-maker'' s. There they " hastened ;" for Thomas 
Arthur had six pounds to pay. Incorrigible Bunyanite, — the 
Pipe-maker locked all his doors in the face of the function- 
aries of the spiritual Court ! What Deputy of a Commissary 
could brook such contempt ? Not Justice Foster. He broke 
in the door, and distrained " all the goods Avithin doors and 
without." "The said Arthur desired to know how much 
money he had distrained for ? To whom the said Mr. Foster 
replied, for Eleven Pounds. Whereupon Thomas Arthur de- 
sired {Bunyan-like again) to see the warrant : which being 
produced, he seeing himself therein but ^orsix pounds, told Mr. 
Foster so : to which Mr. Foster answered, that there was 
five pound more for keeping his door locked. When Thomas 
perceived that Mr. Foster would distrain all his goods, he 
said, " Sir, what shall my children do ? Shall they starve ?" 
This would have been both a startling and a touching ques- 
tion to the functionary of any other court but the Ecclesias- 
tical. It did not, however, disconcert the Deputy in the 
least, « Mr. Foster replied, that so long as he (the Father) was 
a rebel, the children must starve." This answer was worthy 
of the spiritual Court itself. The fact is, that conclave knew 
well from their own temperament, of what stuff to make Com- 
missaries, Deputies, and Apparitors. Accordingly, " Batti- 
son and the two Apparitors, with a file of Musqueteers, and a 
cart, carried away whatever household goods they thought fit, 
and all the wood for the burning of a kiln of pipes ready set." 
^P. 7. 

« Mr. Foster having done his work at the Pipe-maker's, 
&c. passed in haste to the house of Mrs. Tilney ; a widow, a 
gentlewoman well descended, and of a good estate, who was 
fined Twenty pounds : and to make her exemplary in suffering, 
Mr. Foster himself, being attended by his public Notary, 
would see the fine effectually levied upon her goods. And in- 
deed the same was efiiectually done ; insomuch that the Widow- 
was forced to borrow sheets of her neighbours to lie in. She 
was forced to spread these sheets she borrowed, on a bed and 
bolster of another's left in her house ; they did not leave one 



382 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

feather-bed of her own. As for the value of the goods taken 
away, it is supposed to be betwixt forty and fifty pounds. 
Yet the said Mrs. Tilney was more troubled at the crying and 
sighing of her poor neighbours, who were much affected with 
her sufferings, she being very charitable, than for the loss of 
her goods, which she took very cheerfully. And so the offi- 
cers left her, having finished that day's work." — P. 9. 

Mrs. Tilney removed soon after this to London, where her 
son-in-law, a Mr. Blakely, was a Minister. She is " the 
dearly beloved sister," of whom Dr. Southey says, "the very 
Baptists of Bunyan's congregation, and at a time too when 
Bunyan was their pastor, interdicted from communicating 
with a Church of which her son-in-law was a minister, be- 
cause he was not a Baptist." She was interdicted, but not for 
this reason. The interdict, and its explanation, will be found 
in the Chapter, "Bunyan's Pastoral Letters." 

Foster, however, had not all these church-militant laurels 
to himself. Sir George Blundell also signalized himself in 
the holy war, by issuing a warrant on the report of the talk of 
" a little girl," who said to the wife of a vile Informer, " that 
there had been a meeting at the house of Thomas Thorow- 
good in Cotton-End." The Meetingers were, accordingly, 
brought before the Justices at the Swan Inn, who promised to 
acquit them, if " they would confess who was preacher." 
This they refused to do, and were severally fined. It is high- 
ly probable that Bunyan himself was the preacher : for by 
this time the tyranny of the Justices startled the Mayor of 
Bedford. Bunyan was, therefore, not unlikely to slip out of 
the Jail at this crisis, especially as he had the opportunity : 
for as the Mayor was on the side of lenity, the kind Jailor 
would not be very strict. 

Only two of the victims sued for a mitigation of the fine ; 
and one of them, the Honourable Baronet " beat well for his 
pains," and the other he left to the tender mercies of the In- 
former. 

One of the Informers, apparently a thorough miscreant 
(judging from the account of him in the Narrative), was 
seized with a violent haemorrhage, whilst officiating as an Ap- 
purtenant at a visitation at Ampthill. On his death-bed, he 
alternately " threatened the Fanatics," and cursed Foster " for 
setting him in office." His death was so awful, that no one 
would even let a carriage to convey his body to Turvey : but 
it had to be "sent in a cart." — P. 13, 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 883 

Such was the weight of Bunyan's influence in Bedford, and 
such the estimation in which his Church was held in the 
Town. It is, to me, equally pleasing to find, that none of the 
Clergy in Bedford were parties to this shameful outrage. It 
ought also to be remembered here, that in the space of two 
years afterwards, Bunyan bought the ground on which his 
Chapel was built. 

The Narrative from which these facts are gleaned, is con- 
ciliatory in its tone, as well as faithful in its rebukes. It is 
even complimentary to the higher ranks. The writer says, 
" all unquiet storms, thunderings and lightnings, are in and 
from the lower regions: but among the higher spheres and 
more celestial bodies, all things are always peaceable and 
serene ; and by their influence the other raging and noxious 
disturbances are quelled and scattered. And such an end of 
our present disquietments do we hope and pray for." 

This starry compliment does not, however, prevent the 
Author from calling either men or things by their right 
names. He boldly avows that one object of his writing is, 
" to demand of our Legislators, whether" such doings " be the 
garment of their offspring?" He declares in his preface that 
" it is plain, that in despite of Magna Charta, and in defiance 
of all Laws and Rules of righteousness, neighbourhood, and 
humanity" certain persons "resolve to ruin the Nonconform- 
ists, though in no wise able to compensate for the King and 
Kingdom's damage thereby." Without ceremony and cir- 
cumlocution he proclaims the fact, that " the immediate per- 
secutors are the scum of the people, and chiefly the Appur- 
tenants of the Commissaries' Court." Who he means by 
" the raost forward instrument of this sort," of whom he says, 
" he is one who hath openly avowed his esteem for Popery 
above other religions," I do not pretend to guess. I only 
know, that the cap fitted the King's brother. The Author 
was, however, as loyal as any honest man ought to be. 
" Councils for public good," he says, " are the province of our 
superiors. Ready obedience, or peaceable sufferings, are the 
lot of private men. This people (Bunyan's) have by their 
peaceable deportment for many years, given all the satisfac- 
tion that any men, in like circumstances, are able to give of 
their harmless and quiet inclinations. And they intend, by 
the Grace of God, not to gratify their adversaries by trans- 
gressing the obligation of their own consciences, which imposes 
a necessity upon them to practise those things in their Chris- 



?,84 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

tian profession for which they are made obnoxious to so great 
sufferings, and gives them a supportment under them." 

In harmony with this principle, he adds, " The end of pub- 
lishing this Account, is to prepare others, of the same way and 
practice in the things of rehgion with the persons so roughly 
treated at Bedford, not to think strange of the hke trials when 
they befal them ; and to bear them patiently, quietly, and 
peaceably, notwithstanding all provocations to the contrary." 
— P, 14. 

It deserves to be mentioned, that this pamphlet has neither 
the name nor the place of the Printer. Its Title-page runs 
thus, " A true and impartial Narrative of some Illegal and 
Arbitrary proceedings, by certain Justices of the Peace, and 
others, against several innocent and peaceable Nonconformists 
in and near the town of Bedford, upon pretence of putting in 
execution the late Act against Conventicles : together with a 
brief account of the sudden and strange death of the Grand 
Informer, and one of the most violent malicious Persecutors 
against thes-3 poor people. Published for general Information. 
Printed in the year 1670." 

Such were the first fruits of the revival of the Conventicle 
Act. That Act was, however, merely a new form of the old 
spirit of the dominant party. They began in a similar style, 
the moment they got into power. No Venner had appeared 
in either town or country, when the Baptists were singled out 
as victims of intolerance. The King was bat just seated, in 
1660, when the Lincolnshire Baptists had to tell him, " We 
have been, O King, much abused when we pass in the streets, 
and sit in our houses ; being threatened to be hanged, if but 
heard praying in our families ; and disturbed in our waiting 
upon God by uncivil beating at our doors, and sounding of 
horns. Yea, we have been stoned when going to our meet- 
ings ; the windows have been struck down with stones. We 
have been taken and imprisoned. The rage of our adver- 
saries has been augmented, O King, by hearing us abused in 
open Court by some who sat on the bench of Justice. And 
now they have indicted many of us at the Sessions, and in- 
tend, as we are informed, to impose on us a penalty of Twenty 
pounds per month, for not coming to hear such men as they 
provide for us : of whose principles and practices we could 
give a most sad and doleful account ; — and yet, O King, a 
most true relation." This early appeal was drawn up, and 
most likely presented, by the celebrated Thomas Grantham ; 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 



965 



and the facts of it are appealed to by Henry Jessev in his 
" Loud Call to England," in 1660. It was not, therefore the 
insurrection of the Fifth Monarchy men, that originated' this 
persecution of the Baptists. 



33 



Me Ltli'E OF BUNYAN. 



CHAPTER XXXVII. 

bunyan's pastoral letters. 

I HAVE been unable to procure, or even to hear of, any private 
Letters of Bunyan's. I am unwilling to believe, however, 
that none exist : for although a hundred and fifty years have 
elapsed since his death, that length of time has not destroyed 
them, if there were any in 1688. If any exist, they are heir- 
loomSf wherever they may be. I am not without hope, there, 
fore, that this volume may bring some of his private Letters to 
light, before my standard edition of his Pilgrim's Progress is 
finished. The descendants of Sir John Shorer, Mayor of 
London, in 1668 ; and of Mr. Strudwick, then of Snow Hill ; 
and of the family in Bedfordshire, for whose sake Bunyan 
went his last journey to Reading, owe it, if any of them re. 
main, to the memory of their ancestors, as well as to him, to 
search and see whether the blank can be filled up. Dr. 
Southey says, that " the Brazier^s Company would deem itself 
honoured if it could show the name of John Bunyan upon its 
rolls." It would be a still higher honour for any family, to 
show by Letters that he was the friend of their great-grand. 
father. What if an American family should be the ^rst to 
claim this distinction ? I have reason to think that Bunyan 
corresponded with some of the first Baptist settlers. I know 
that some of them wrote to him about their own prospects in 
America, as well as about the popularity of his Pilgrim. 

I throw out these hints with much solicitude. In the mean 
time, the public must be contented with the following Pastoral 
Letters, even although the authorship of them is, except in one, 
but partly Bunyan's. They bear, however, more than his sig. 
nature. They breathe his spirit throughout, and sparkle oc 
casionally with his own gems set in his own Saxon. 

The first Letter is to the « certain Anthony Harrington," a» 
Dr. Southey calls him, " whom GifTord thought c f en of killing, 
because he was a leading man" amongst the Dissenters of 



1 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. SST 

Bedford. He was driven from his family by a Writ de 
Excom. Capiend. in 1669 ; but returned in 1681. " Spend 
not your vacant hours as they that wept for Tammuz," stamp* 
it Banyan's, quite as certainly as his signature. 

'•Dearly Beloved Brother, 

"Grace, Mercy, and Peace be with you always by 
Jesus Christ our Lord, to the praise of God the Father, and 
your everlasting consolation and increase of hope in our Lord 
Jesus Christ, to whom be glory for ever and ever, Amen. 
Blessed be God and the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who 
by him hath called us unto his kingdom in glory ; to the praise 
of the glory of his grace, wherein he hath made us accepted 
in the beloved, in whom we have redemption through his 
blood, even the forgiveness of our sins, according to the riches 
of his grace. 

" With length of days is understanding ; your long progress 
in the ways of God and our Father, hath given you rich ex. 
perience of that grace that is not only laid up for us in Christ, 
but to be brought unto us when he shall be revealed from 
heaven with all his saints. Wherefore, Brother, make it mani- 
fest that you are one of those scribes we read of that is not 
only instructed into but unto the kingdom of God. Let it be 
seen by all your ways that the secrets of God are with you, 
and that you have in store things new and old in your heart, 
as in God's treasure house. Gravity becometh the ancients 
in the house of God. Fathers should be examples unto chil- 
dren. We are comforted in the remembrance of thee. Brother, 
while we consider that notwithstanding thy natural infirmity, 
yet thou prizest good conscience above thine own enjoyments. 
And since thou couldest not with quiet enjoy it at home ; thou 
hast left thy concerns in this world (though in much hazard 
and danger) that thou mayest keep it abroad. But remember 
the good word of God ; 'No man shall desire thy land, when 
thou shalt go to appear before the Lord thy God, thrice in the 
year.' Wherefore let neither the remembrance of what thou 
hast left, nor thought of its being subject to casualty, either 
distract thee in thy communion with God, or prevail with thee 
to do aught against good conscience, or unworthy thy gray 
hairs ; which are then the glory of old men, when found in the 
way of righteousness. John saith, I have no greater joy than 
to hear that my children walk in truth. Having always a good 



38$ LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

conscience towards God, and towards men : this is armour of 
righteousness both on the right hand, and on the left. You, 
Brother Harrington, have lived to see the slippery and un- 
stable nature that is in earthly things ; wherefore we beseech 
you to expect no more therefrom than the word of God hath 
promised : which is as much in little as in much thereof, if 
not more in many respects. He that gathered much, had 
nothing over, and he that gathered little had no lack. While 
Israel sat by the flesh-pots in Egypt, they had no manna, they 
drank not the water out of the rock, these things were reserved 
for their wilderness condition ; to support them in the waste- 
howling wilderness. We speak this to encourage you, know- 
ing you are subject to temptation with us. For we hope it 
is because God loveth you, that he hath driven you from your 
incumbrances, that you may have occasion before you die, 
therein to solace yourself with your God, and the Lord Jesus 
Christ ; we mean that you may do it with more leisure and less 
distraction, than when the lowing of the oxen had continual 
sound in your ears. Man's life consisteth not in the abun- 
dance of the things he possesseth : wherefore being denied a 
fulness here is no token of God's displeasure against our 
spiritual welfare, but rather, yea always the contrary. Let not 
these dispensations then discourage and distress your mind : 
bless God for the hope that is laid up for you in heaven, 
whereof you have heard before in the word of the truth of the 
gospel. 

'* God is wise and doth all things for the best, for them that 
love him. You know not yet, but you may know afterward, 
what sins and temptations God hath prevented, by driving you 
thus from your habitation ; and how hereby he hath made way 
for the exercise of some graces, that could not so well discover 
themselves in their virtues, when you was here. How subject 
we are to dote upon and to be entangled with the snares, that 
lay couched and hid in this present world, you have great ex- 
perience with us. The which because God disliketh, it being 
uncomely for the men of another world, therefore after God 
plucketh down and pulleth up what we build and plant. It 
was customary with our Fathers to dwell in tents, and houses 
made with boughs ; for they sought a city that hath founda- 
tions, whose maker and builder is God. When we are desolate 
then we trust in God, and make prayers and supplications to 
him night and day. God help you therefore, that you spend 
your vacant hours not as they that wept for Tammuz, but 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. . 38») 

as they who plainly confess to all they are strangers and 
pilgrims in the earth. 

" Brother, we write not but by way of exhortation, beseech- 
ing you that you call to remembrance your vows and tears, 
when you have been in distress ; and that you would arm 
yourself with that mind you read of, Heb. xii. 2, 3, 9, that 
you may have your garments always white, and that your 
head may lack no ointment ; you cannot be there where no 
eyes are upon you ; you are a spectacle to God, angels, and 
men ; and being exalted to the profession of Christianity, and 
also to the communion of God and saints, you can neither 
stand nor fall by yourself, but the name and cause and people of 
God, shall in some sense stand and fall with you ; yea, let us 
have joy in thee, brother, refresh our spirits in the Lord. We 
have confidence in thee, that thou wilt be circumspect to the 
adorning of the doctrine of God our Saviour. Keep close to 
the words of faith and sound doctrine, wherein thou hast been 
instructed ; and shun profane and vain babbling, not having 
to do with men of corrupt minds, that thy profession be not 
canker-eaten. Hear the word of God with diligence, and pray 
much for the spirit of wisdom and revelation in the knowledge 
of Jesus Christ. And remember that God hath said. Though 
there were any of you cast out to the uttermost part of heaven, 
yet will I gather them from thence, and will bring them into 
the place, that I have chosen to set my name there. 

" Finally, brother, Farewell, Grace be with thee. Amen. 

" Written by the appointment of the congregation to which 
you stand related in the faith of the Gospel, and subscribed 
with their consent by the hands of your brethren, 

« JOHN BUNYAN," &c. 

{No date.) 

The Minister to whom the following Letter is addressed, 
Mr. Wilson of Hitchm, became joint Editor with Mr. Chan- 
dler of Bedford, of the folio edition of Bunyan's works, in 
1692. — Ivimey, 

"Our dearly beloved Brother Wilson, 

" Grace, mercy, and peace be with thee through our 

Lord Jesus Christ. Amen. Blessed be God, and the Father 

of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of all mercy, and the 

God of all comfort, for the abundant grace bestowed on thee, 

33* 



Sm LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

brother ; and for that thou art so called, so preserved in Christ 
Jesus ; who, we trust, will preserve thee to his kingdom and 
glory : to whom be honour and power everlasting. 

« We are comforted in thee, our dearly beloved, when we 
remember that from a child, thou hast known the holy Scrip- 
tures ; which are able to make thee wise unto salvation, 
through faith in Jesus Christ ; which faith was also in thy 
tender years fruitful and flourishing in thy gracious heart, to 
the great comfort of us thy brethren, and the glory of that 
grace that hath translated us out of the kingdom of Satan into 
the kingdom of Jesus Christ. 

" It is also joy to us to behold, that notwithstanding thy lot 
is cast in a place of high transgression ; yet thou showest out 
of a good conversation thy works with meekness of wisdom. 
God help thee, brother, to remember the days of thy youth ; 
the first ways of David were best. There are but few can say 
as Caleb : ' As my strength was forty years since, so it is now, 
both to go out and come in before the people of God.' 

" 'Tis also said of Moses at the day of his death, his natural 
force was not abated : neither did his eyes wax dim. Brother, 
be always looking into the perfect law of liberty : and continue 
therein. The customs of the people are vain ; learn there- 
fore of no man any of the deeds of darkness ; we must give 
an account of ourselves to God. It argueth not only wisdom, 
but great grace, when the soul makes all lie level to the word 
and Spirit of God : when he scorneth and counteth that un- 
worthy his affections, that hath not on it the stamp of the 
things of heaven. It is said of the children of Israel, * They 
saw God and did eat and drink.' That is the right eating and 
drinking indeed. The glory of young men, is their strength to 
overcome the wicked one. * My son,' says Solomon, * if thy 
heart be wise, my heart shall rejoice, even mine.' 

" Now, brother, God hath not only counted you worthy to 
believe in his Son, but also to profess him before the world. 
Wear his name in your forehead. They that Christ will own 
for his servants for ever, must say plainly, I love my Master: 
they must declare plainly, they seek a country. The first 
note of the peril of the last times is, ' Men shall be lovers of 
their own selves, covetous, proud,' &:c. ' O man of God, fly 
these things, and follow after righteousness, godliness, faith, | 
love, patience, meekness. Fight the good fight of faith, lay I 
hx)ld on eternal life ; whereunto thou art also called, and hast f 
witnessed a good profession before many witnesses.' 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 39I 

« 'Tis said of Hananiah, * he feared God above many.' God 
continue our joy of thee, brother. Our hope of thee is stead- 
fast, through grace ; trusting in the Lord that he that hath be- 
gun the good work in thee will perfect it until the day of 
Jesus Christ. It is a strange sight to behold those who did 
feed delicately to be desolate in the street ; and they that were 
brought up in scarlet to embrace dunghills. We speak not 
these things to shame thee, but as our beloved brother we 
warn thee. O Timothy, keep that which is committed to thy 
trust ; watch and be sober. And if tho-i be inclined to sleep, 
let that of Delilah rouse thee ; » The Philistines be upon thee, 
Samson ! ' 

"Grace be with thee. The Lord is at hand. Behold 
the Judge stands at the door. Amen. Even so come, Lord 
Jesus. 

« Written by the appointment, and subscribed in the name 
and with the consent of the congregation. 

« 1669." "JOHN BUNYAN," &c. 

TO BUNYAN 'S SPIRITUAL CHILDREN. 

Bedford Jail. 

*' Children, Grace be with you. Amen. I being taken from 
you in presence, and so tied up that I cannot perform that duty, 
that from God doth lie upon me to you-ward, for your farther 
edifying and building up in faith and holiness, &c., yet that 
you may see my soul hath fatherly care and desire after your 
spiritual and everlasting welfare, I now once again, as before, 
from the top of Shenir and Hermon, so now from the Lion's 
den, and from the mountain of the Leopards, do look yet after 
you all, greatly longing to see your safe arrival in the desired 
haven. 

"I thank God upon every remembrance of you ; and rejoice, 
even while I stick between the teeth of the lions in the wilder- 
ness, that the grace and mercy, and knowledge of Christ our 
Saviour, which God hath bestowed upon you, "with abundance 
of faith and love ; your hungerings and thirstings after farther 
acquaintance with the Father, in the Son ; your tenderness of 
heart, your trembling at sin, your sober and holy deportment 
also, before both God and men, is a great refreshment to me ; 
for * you are my glory and joy.' 

"I have sent you here enclosed" (in his Life) "a drop of 
that honey that I have taken out of the carcase of a lion, I 



392 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

have eaten thereof myself, and am much refreslied thereby. 
(Temptations, when we meet them at first, are as the lion that 
roared upon Samson ; but if we overcome them, the next time 
we shall find a nest of honey within them.) The Philistines 
understand me not. It is something of a relation of the work 
of God upon my soul, even from the very first till now, wherein 
you may perceive my castings down, and risings up : for he 
woundeth, and his hands make whole. It is written in the 
Scripture, *The father to the children shall make known the 
truth of God.' Yea, it was for this reason I lay so long at 
Sinai, ' to see the fire, and the cloud, and the darkness, that I 
might fear the Lord all the days of my life upon earth, and 
tell of his wondrous works to my children which we have heard 
and known and our fathers have told us. We will not hide them 
from their children, showing to the generation to come the 
praises of the Lord and his strength and his wonderful works 
that he hath done. For he established a testimony in Jacob 
and appointed a law in Israel which he commanded our fathers 
that they should make them known unto their children.' 

" Moses wrote of the journeyings of the children of Israel 
from Egypt to the land of Canaan ; and commanded also that 
they did remember their forty years' travel in the wilderness. 
« Thou shalt remember all the way which the Lord thy God 
led thee these forty years in the wilderness, to humble thee, 
and to prove thee, and to know what was in thine heart, 
whether thou wouldst keep his commandments or no.' Where- 
fore this I have endearoured to do ; and not only so, but to pub. 
lish it also : that, if God will, others may be put in remem- 
brance of what lie hath done for their souls, by reading his 
work upon me. 

« It is profitable for Christians to be often calling to mind 
the very beginnings of grace with their souls. <It is a night 
to be much observed to the Lord, for bringing them out of the 
land of Egypt. This is that night of the Lord to be observed 
of all the children of Israel, in their generations.' *0 my 
God,' saith David, ' my soul is cast down within me ; but I 
will remember thee from the land of Jordan, and of the Her- 
monites, from the hill Mizar.' He remembered also the lion 
and the bear, when he went to fight with the giant of 
Gath. 

«* It was Paul's accustomed manner, and that, when tried for 
his life, even to open before his judges the manner of his con- 
yersion : He would think of that day, and that hour, in which 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 393 

he first did meet with grace ; for he found it supported him. 
When God had brought the children of Israel out of the Red 
Sea, far into the wilderness, yet they must turn quite about 
thither again, to remember the drowning of their enemies 
there, for though they sang his praise before, yet they soon for- 
gat his works. 

" In this discourse of mine, you may see much ; much I say, 
of the grace of God towards me : I thank God, I can count it 
much, for it was above my sins and Satan's temptations too. 
I can remember my fears and doubts, and sad months, with 
comfort ; they are as the head of Goliath in my hand. There 
was nothing to David like Goliath's sword, even that sword 
that should have been sheathed in his bowels; for the very 
sight and remembrance of that did preach forth God's deliver- 
ance to him. Oh ! the remembrance of my great sins, of my 
great temptations, and of my great fear of perishing for ever ! 
They bring afresh into my mind, the remembrance of my great 
help, my great supports from heaven, and the great grace that 
God extended to such a wretch as I. 

" My dear children, call to mind the former days, and years 
of ancient times : remember also your songs in the night, and 
commune with your own heart ; say in times of distress, 
* Will the Lord cast off for ever ? and will he be favourable no 
more ? Is his mercy clean gone for ever ? doth his promise fail 
for evermore ? Hath God forgotten to be gracious ? Hath he 
in anger shut up his tender mercies ? And I said, this is my 
infirmity, but I will remember the years of the right hand of 
the Most High. I will remember the works of the Lord, 
surely I will remember thy wonders of old. I will meditate 
also of all thy work and talk of thy doings.' Yea, look dili- 
gently, and leave no corner therein unsearched for that trea- 
sure hid, even the treasure of your first and second experience 
of the grace of God towards you. Remember, I say, the word 
that first laid hold upon you : remember your terrors of con- 
science, and fears of death and hell : remember also your tears 
and prayers to God ; yea, how you sighed under every hedge 
for mercy. Have you never a hill Mizar to remember ? Have 
you forgot the close, the milk-house, the stable, the barn, and 
tlie like, where God did visit your souls ? Remember also the 
word, the word, I say, upon which the Lord hath caused you to 
hope. If you have sinned against light, if you are tempted to 
blaspheme, if you are drowned in despair, if you think God 
fights against you, or if heaven is hid from your eyes ; remem- 



394 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

ber it was thus with your father ; * but out of them all the Lord 
delivered me.' 

*' I could have enlarged much in this my discourse, of my 
temptations and troubles for sin ; as also of the merciful kind- 
ness and working of God with my soul. I could also have 
stepped into a style much higher than this, in which I have 
here discoursed, and could have adorned all things more than 
here I have seemed to, but I dare not. God did not play in 
tempting of me ; neither did I play, when I sunk as into the 
bottomless pit, when the pangs of hell caught hold upon me ; 
wherefore I may not play in relating of them, but be plain and 
simple, and lay down the thing as it was ; He that liketh it, 
let him receive it, and he that doth not, let him produce a bet- 
ter. Farewell. 

" My dear Children, the milk and honey are beyond thia 
wilderness. God be merciful to you, and grant that you be 
not slothful to go in to possess the land. 

{No date.) "JOHN BUNYAN." 

Tne following Letter to Mrs. Tilnej'^, the benevolent widow 
whom Foster pillaged and the poor wept for, interdicts her, Dr. 
Southey says, " from communicating with a church of which 
her son-in-law was Minister, because he was not a Baptist." 
Ivimey, again, says of it, that it is an example of Discipline 
"worthy the imitation of all the Churches of Christ." I know 
nothing about Blakey, or his Church : but I am quite sure, that 
his views of Baptists were not the reason for refusing to com- 
mend his mother-in-law to his fellowship. Neither Bunyan 
nor his Church made Baptism a condition of fellowship. Their 
grand distinction was, that they did not. Instead, therefore, of 
this letter being a contradiction to their rule, it is most likely a 
proof of their rigid adherence to it. Blakey's Church were, 
most probably, very strict Baptists ; and objected to on that 
account by Bunyan. For their baptism would not have recon- 
ciled him to their bigotry. And if they were General Baptists, 
this bigotry was allied with an Arminianism which he, although 
no hyper-calvinist, would not have countenanced. 

" Our dearly beloved Sister Tilney, 

" Grace, mercy, and peace be with you by Jesus Christ 
our Lord. Amen, 

" I received your letter, and have presented it to the sight of 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 895 

the brethren, who after due consideration of your motion, have 
jointly conckided to give you their answer. 

"This for yourself (honoured Sister), you are of high esteem 
with the Church of God in this place, both because his grace 
hath been bestowed richly upon you, and because of your 
fruitful fellowship with us ; for you have been a daughter of 
Abraham while here, not being afraid with any amazement. 
Your holy and quiet behaviour also, while with patience and 
meekness, and in the gentleness of Christ, you suffered your- 
self to be robbed for his sake, hath the more united our affec- 
tions to you in the bowels of Jesus Christ. Yea, it hath be- 
gotten you reverence also in the hearts of them who were be- 
holders of your meekness and innocency while you suffered ; 
and a stinging conviction, as we are persuaded, in the con- 
sciences of those who made spoil for themselves : all which 
will redound to the praise of God our Father, and to your 
comfort and everlasting consolation by Christ in the day he 
shall come to take vengeance for his people, and to be glorified 
in them that believe. 

" Wherefore we cannot (our honoured Sister), but care for 
your welfare and increase of all good in the faith and kingdom 
of Christ, whose servant you are, and whose name is written 
in your forehead ; and do therefore pray God and our Father 
that he would direct your way and open a door into his tern- 
pie for you, that you may eat his fat and be refreshed, and that 
you may drink the pure blood of the grape. And be you as- 
sured that with all readiness we will help and forward you 
what we can therein, for we are not ashamed to own you be- 
fore all the churches of Christ. 

"But, our dearly beloved, you know that for our safety and 
your profit, that it is behoofful that we commit you to such, to 
he fed and governed in the word and doctrines, as we are suffi- 
ciently persuaded shall be able to deliver you with joy, at the 
coming of our Lord Jesus Christ with all his saints : other- 
wise we (that we say not you) shall receive blushing and 
shame before him and you. Yea and you also, our honoured 
Sister, may justly charge us with want of love, and a due re- 
spect for your eternal condition : if for want of care and cir- 
cumspection herein, we should commit you to any from whom 
you should receive damage ; or by whom you should not be 
succoured, and fed with the sincere milk of the incorruptible 
word of God, which is able to save your soul. 

" Wherefore, we may not, neither dare give our consent that 



396 LIFE OF BUNYAN, 

you feed and fold with such whose principles and practices^ in 
matters of faith and worship, we as yet are strangers to : and 
have not received commendations concerning, either from 
works of theirs or epistles from others. Yourself indeed hath 
declared that you are satisfied therein : but elect sister, seeing 
the act of delivering you up, is an act of ours and not yours, 
it is convenient, yea, very expedient, that we as to so weighty 
a matter be well persuaded before. 

" Wherefore we beseech you, that for the love of our Lord 
Jesus Christ, you give us leave to inform ourselves yet better 
before we grant your request ; and that you also forbear to sit 
down at the table with any without the consent of our brethren. 
You were, while with us, obedient, and we trust you will 
not be unruly now. And for the more quick expedition of 
this matter, we will propound before you our farther thoughts, 

" 1. Either we shall consent to your sitting down with 
brother Cockain, brother Griffith, brother Palmer, or other who 
of long continuance in the city, have showed forth their faith, 
their worship, or good conversation with the word. 

" 2. Or if you can get a commendatory epistle from brother 
Owen, brother Cockain, brother Palmer, or brother Griffith, 
concerning the faith and principles of the person and people 
you mention, with desire to be guided and governed by ; you 
shall see our readiness in the fear of God, to commit you to the 
direction and care of that congregation. 

" Choose you whether of these you will consent unto, and 
let us know of your resolution. And we beseech you for 
love's sake, you show with meekness your fear and reverence 
of Christ's institution ; your love to the congregation, and re- 
gard to your future good. 

" Finally, we commit you to God and the word of his grace ; 
who is able to build you up, and to give you an inheritance 
among them that are sanctified. To God the only wise be 
glory and power everlasting. Amen. 

" Your affectionate brethren, to serve you in the faith and 
fellowship of the gospel, 

"JOHN BUNYAN," &c. &c. 
« Sent from Bedford, the 

I9th of the 4tth Months 1672." 

Ivimey p^ys, " From another Letter, we find that Mrs. Til. 
ney refused to *,omply with the directions. The Church, how- 
ever, continued to enforce their advice. There is no account 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 397 

liow the matter ended." It is quite certain, however, that the 
matter did not begin, as Dr. Southey says, « because Blakey 
was not a Baptist." He adds, that they "excluded a brother 
(Robert Nelson) because in a great assembly of the Churcli of 
England, he was profanely hishopt, after the anti-Christian 
order of that generation, to the great profanation of God's 
order, and the heart-breaking of Christian brethren." This 
case, like the former, is quoted as an exception to the tolerant 
spirit of Bunyan : and, at first sight, it seems an exception. 
Indeed, it could not appear otherwise to Dr. Southey, as he 
found it in Ivimey's History of the Baptists. There it stands 
as a bare fact, and without any definition of the word bishopL 
That word means neither — 7nade a Bishop, nor ordained by a 
Bishop. Robert Nelson had no such honour, and he deserved 
none at all. He was merely confirmed " in the great assem- 
bly of the Church of England;" but confirmed in what, — I 
cannot tell : for, seven years afterwards, the Church at Bed- 
ford warned the Churches at Steventon, Keysoe, and Newport 
Pagnel, not to countenance him. This would not have been 
necessary if he had become a churchman. It can only be ex- 
plained by supposing that, in some way, he hung on between 
Church and Dissent. No great fault, I grant, if his purpose 
had been good. But this is doubtful. It is certain, however, 
that Bunyan's Church admonished him for seven years, before 
they excluded him for being bishopt : and even then, it was 
as much for contemning all admonition, as for " trampling upon 
their order and fellowship." Their Letter to the Churches 
is now before me ; and it declares that he was borne Avith " for 
the space of eight or nine years." Had Dr. Southey been 
aware of these facts of the case, he would not have adduced 
Nelson's exclusion as an exception to the tolerance of Bun- 
yan's Church. I state the facts, that there may remain no 
draw-hack upon the honourable testimony of Dr. Southcj^, 
where he says of Bunyan, tliat he was " beyond the general 
spirit of his age in tolerance, and y«r beyond that of his fellow 
Sectaries." — Life, p. 77. 

" TO OUR BELOVED SISTER KATHERINE HUSTWHAT. 

" Our dearly beloved Sister, 

"The God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the 
Father of Glory, and the God of all comfort, bless thee with 
abundance of grace and peace through the knowledge of God, 
34 



398 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

and our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory evermore. 
Amen. 

*'It is a comfort to us thy brothers and sisters (with whom 
grace hath made thee a member of the Lord Jesus) when we 
remember thy first faith and hope in the Lord Jesus Christ ; 
being persuaded that those beginnings shall not end but in that 
kingdom and glory which God hath prepared for those that 
love him. In which persuasion we are the more confirmed, 
since we hear (to our increase of joy) how our God supporteth 
thee in all thy temptations and spiritual desertions thou meet- 
est with in the world. The poor and afflicted people God will 
save ; to be distressed and tempted while here is a manifesta- 
tion of our predestination to the ease and peace of another 
world. Predestinated to be conformable, or (as in the old 
translation) predestinated that we should be like-fashioned even 
to the shape of his Son. A great part of which lieth, in our 
being distressed, tempted, afflicted as he. And therefore it 
was when he was departing hence to the Father, that he as it 
were looked back, as over his shoulder, to such, saying, ' You 
are they that have continued with me in my temptations, unto 
you I appoint a Kingdom, as my Father hath appointed unto 
me.' 

" Sister, thy keeping low and being emptied from vessel to 
vessel, is that thou mightest be kept sweet and more clean in 
thy soul than thou wouldst, or couldst otherwise be. The 
first ways of David were his best ; and yet those ways were 
most accompanied with affliction. They that are naked and 
lodge without clothing, that have no covering in the cold, and 
that are wet with the showers of the mountains ; these em- 
brace the rock for want of a shelter. As outward distresses 
make us prize outward blessings ; so temptations and afflic- 
tions of soul make us prize Jesus Christ. He suffereth us to 
hunger, and to wander in a bewildered condition, that we may 
taste and relish the words of God, and not live by bread alone. 
Temptations always provoke to spiritual appetite ; and are 
therefore very necessary for us, yea, as needful as work and 
labour to the body, without which it would be overrun with 
diseases, and unfit for any employment. Therefore, our be- 
loved Sister, stir up the grace of God that is in thee, and lay 
hold by faith on eternal life, to the which thou art also called ; 
and count when thou art tempted much, yet the end of that 
temptation will come ; the end, and then effect. And remem- 
ber that even our dearest Lord could not break off" the tempta- 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 399 

tion in the middle ; but < when Satan had ended all the tempta- 
tion, then he departed from him for a season.' 

" The gospel which thou hast received is no cunningly de- 
vised fable, but the very truth and verity of God, and will 
undoubtedly bring to those that believe, grace and glory, 
honour and immortality ; eternal life, and a world to come. 
This is the true grace of God wherein we stand, and rejoice 
in hope of the glory of God. Wherefore be not shaken in 
mind, or troubled with unbelief or atheism ; look to the promise, 
look to Jesus, look to his blood, and what worth it hath with 
the justice of God for sinners. The Lord direct thy heart 
into the love of God, and the patient waiting for Jesus Christ, 
who at his coming will gather the saints together unto him, 
even those who have made a covenant with him by sacrifice. 

" Lastly, Sister, farewell, watch and be sober ; have patience 
to the coming of the Lord ; and in the meanwhile look to thy 
lamp. The Lord pour of his golden oil into it, and also into 
the vessel of thy soul ; keep thy work before thee, and be re- 
newed in the spirit of thy mind. Blessed are those servants 
whom the Lord when he cometh, shall find so doing. We 
commend you to God, and to the word of his grace, which is 
able to build you up, and to give you an inheritance, among 
them that are sanctified by faith which is in Christ Jesus, to 
whom, with the Father, and the Holy Ghost, one God, be glory 
and dominion now and for ever. 

" Written by the appointment of this congregation, and sub- 
scribed by their consent, by your dear brethren, who pray for 
you, and entreat your prayers for this despised handful of the 
Lord's heritage. 

« JOHN BUNYAN," &c. &c. 

EXTRACT. 

" I marvel not that yourself and others do think my long 
imprisonment strange ; — or rather strangely of me for the sake 
of that : — for verily I should have done so myself, had not the 
Holy Ghost long since forbidden me. 1 Pet. iv. 12. John 
iii. 13. Nay, verily, notwithstanding that, had the Adversary 
fastened the supposition of guilt upon me, my long trials might 
by this time have put it beyond dispute. For I have not been 
so sordid as to stand to a doctrine, right or wrong, when so 
weighty an argument as above an eleven years' imprisonment 
is continually dogging me to pause, and pause again, to weigh 
the grounds of the principles for which I have thus suffered : 



400 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

but having, not only at my Trial asserted them, but all this 
tedious tract of time, examined them in cool blood a thousand 
times by the Word of God, I cannot, dare not now revolt or 
deny, on pain of eternal damnation. 

''Thine in Bonds of the Gospel, 

^kTOHN BUNYAN." 
[No date.} 



I 



LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 401 



CHAPTER XXXVIir. 

BUNYAn's CALVINISM. 

Dr. Southey says, that " Calvinism would never have become 
a term of reproach, nor have driven so many pious minds, in 
horror of it, to an opposite extreme, if it had never worn a 
blacker appearance than in Bunyan's Works." He was less 
courteous to Calvinism, as Whiteficld preached it, although 
the Methodist was as " mild and charitable" as the Baptist. 
The Calvinism of both was, indeed, the same, when they be- 
came men. It is highly creditable, however, to Dr. Southey, 
to have made this concession even in the case of Bunyan. It 
places him, where he deserves to stand, with Bishop Horsley : 
for it is not so much the compliment of a poet to Bunyan, as 
the homage of a scholar to Truth. I have had to animadvert 
often and severely upon his life of Bunyan ; but I have never 
forgotten for a moment his vast and varied erudition, or the 
loveliness of his private character, or the deep interest he 
takes in theology as well as in literature. Little did I 
imagine, whilst honoured by a seat at his fireside, and en- 
raptured by his playful wit and profound wisdom in his Li- 
brary, of which he is the impersonation^ that it would ever be 
my duty to write a line concerning him, except from grati- 
tude and admiration ! It was, indeed, the sight (in early life) 
of his beautiful character as a student and a father, that led 
me to combine literature with both my domestic habits and 
professional duties ; and as I have reaped much enjoyment 
from this combination, I feel at times as if I had been ungrate- 
ful or unjust to him. And I certainly have been both, — if Pu- 
ritanism be the heresy he says it is, or if Experience be fana- 
ticism. I, however, believe the former to be the noblest form 
of Christianity, and the latter the vital spirit of Piety ; and, 
therefore, I have written against Dr. Southey as their avowed 
enemy ; and only as such. I believe, also, that he will be re- 
membered and influential, on this subject, when nine-tenths of 
both its lay and ecclesiastical assailants are forgotten ; for he 
34* 



4(2 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

has hung his high. Church principles, and his iow-Church phi- 
losophy, upon the loftiest Cedars of the Lebanon of both Dis- 
sent and Methodism ; and thus he cannot die now, even if his 
poetry had not immortalized him before. 

I have purposely placed these remarks in this chapter, be- 
cause Bunyan's Calvinism is his only theological 'peculiarity, 
which Dr. Southey has complimented ; and because some read- 
ers will wonder to find that Bunyan was a Calvinist of any 
kind ; and thus turn to it to see, — of what kind. Now, what- 
ever kind it may be, it is not horrowed Calvinism, nor, of course, 
copied from Calvin. The only thing of his, Bunyan was 
likely to see, was his Commentary on the Acts, which was 
translated and published by Featherstone, in 1585. under the 
auspices of the Earl of Huntingdon ; and thaty if he ever saw 
it, would have contradicted not a little of the Calvinism he 
was accustomed to hear. The old Genevan, whatever some 
may say for him, said for himself, " Because many entangle 
themselves in doubtful and thorny imaginations, while they 
seek for their salvation in the hidden council of God, let us 
learn to seek no other certainty save that which is revealed to 
us in the Gospel. I say, — let this seal suffice us, that ' who- 
soever believelh in the Son of God hath eternal life.' " — Cal- 
vin's Acts, p. 327. 

Bunyan, as we shall see, might have read this Calvinistic 
maxim, or heard it quoted. We know, however, that he had 
studied as well as read Luther on the Galatians ; and thus was 
as likely as Gifford, to apply to himself (as Luther did to him- 
self,) what Paul says of his own election. " Under the Pope- 
dom, we (Monks) were verily no less, if not more, contume- 
lious and blasphemous against Christ and his Gospel, than Paul 
himself; — and especially I ! So highly did I esteem the 
Pope's authority, that I thought it a sin worthy of everlasting 
deaths to dissent from him even in the Zeasi point. That wick- 
ed opinion caused me to reckon John Huss an accursed heretic. 
Yea, I accounted it a heinousoffence but once to thinlc of him \' 
I would, myself, in defence of the Pope's authority, have applied 
sword and fire for burning and destroying that heretic ; and 
thought it a high service to God so to do. There was not one 
of us but was a bloodsucker, if not in deed, yet in heart. It is 
the alone and inestimable favour of God, that hath spared such 
a wretch, and, besides that, given me the knowledge of salva- 
tion. This gift came to me by the mere predestination and 
free mercy of God." — Luther's Galat. 4to. p. 35^ 



LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 403 

Bunyan, like his first pastor, Gifford, would naturally, and 
well might, take a similar view of his own conversion, as both 
" calling and election ;" for, what else or less could he think 
of it ? To what but sovereign and almighty Grace, could any 
one ascribe or refer it ? It was likely, therefore, to influence 
his general views of the reign of Grace. No one ought to 
be surprised at all, if Bunyan's personal feelings give even a 
highly Calvinistic cast to his doctrinal theology. I was, in- 
deed, somewhat astonished to find a formal Treatise on Repro- 
bation, in his works, when I first read them ; but I merely said 
to myself, " I wot that through ignorance," or in dread of the 
opposite extreme of the Freewillers, he wrote it. I saw it was 
logical, and as Bunvan is so too, I had no doubt of its Bun- 
yanicity then. I more than doubt that now. Its logic is scho- 
lastic, not natural. I say scholastic, not instead of calling it 
artificial.) because it is never redeemed by either fact or figure, 
fancy or egotism. It is as clear and cold as a frosty night ; 
whereas when Bunyan is clearest he is always warmest. 
Light and heat radiate together in equal proportions when he 
reasons. 

On this ground the Treatise on Reprohatioii, which appears 
in the Ox^tavo Edition of his Works, by Hog^, may be ques- 
tioned. It forms no part, however, of the Folio Editions of 
1692, or 17S6. Hogg's has no date ; but as it has notes by 
Mason, and a Preface by Mr. Ryland of Northampton, and a 
commendation from Mr. Timothy Priestly, it is of course sub- 
sequent to Marshal's folio edition. Besides, the title of the 
Treatise is not in Hogg's table of contents. Its absence from 
the folio is, however, the great point against it ; for they were 
edited by personal friends, on behalf of Bunyan's family. I 
do not draw, therefore, upon the credit which my readers will 
give me for a competent knowledge of Bunyan's style, when I 
thus ask them to " stand in doubt" of this Treatise. Exter- 
nal as well as Internal evidence is against its authenticit3\ 
The copy from which Hogg printed it would not prove it to 
be Bunyan's, even if his name was upon the title page, unless 
it bore a date prior to his death ; and even then, I could hardly 
believe it ; for his name was more than once employed by low 
booksellers to palm off books he never wrote. 

It is not meant, however, by these facts, to say that Bunyan 
did not hold Reprobation in any sense ; but that he did not 
hold it in the vulgar sense of modern Hyper-Calvinists, nor 
in the form it appears in that Treatise. And that he was no 



404 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

Hyper-Calvinist on this subject, the following passages will 
abundantly prove. In his Treatise on Eternal Judgment, he 
says, " Now men will tattle and prattle at a mad rate about 
Election and Reprobation, and conclude, because all are not 
elected, that God is to blame that any are damned : but then, 
they will see that men are not damned because they were not 
elected, but because they sinned ; and also that they sinned, 
not because God put any weakness into their souls, but because 
they gave way, and that wilfully, knowingly, and desperately 
to Satan, and ' so turned from the holy commandment deliver- 
ed unto them.' For, observe; — among all the objections and 
cavils that are made, and will be made, in the day of the Lord 
Jesus, they have not one humph about Election and Reproba- 
tion. And the reason is, — that they shall sec then that God 
could choose and refuse at pleasure, in his prerogative royal, 
without prejudice to the Lost. They shall be convinced that 
there was such reality, and downright willingness in God, in 
every tender of grace and mercy to the woist of men, that 
they will be drowned with the conviction that they did refuse 
love for hatred ; grace for sin ; heaven for hell ; God for the 
devil." — Works, vol. iv. p. 2461. 

In his treatise on the Covenants, he puts this question, 
" What good will waiting on God do me, if I am not elected ? 
If I did but know my election, that would encourage me." 
In answer to this question, he says, " I believe thee ! But 
mark : — thou canst not know whether thou art elected, in the 
first place, but in the second. Thou must first get acquain- 
tance with God in Christ ; which cometh by giving credit to 
His promises, and the records he has given of his blood, righte- 
ousness and merits." — Works, vol. ii. fol. p. 193. 

In his Sermon on the Strait Gate, he explains the rejection 
of Esau (a case which long haunted him,) by drawing a dis- 
dinction, which is rarely made, between the birthright and 
the blessing. Addressing a man who cares nothing about the 
New Birth, but only for mercy at last, he says, " Thou child 
of Esau, who sayest, Tush ! to being born again ; know that 
the birthright and blessing go together. Miss the one, and 
thou shalt not have the other. Esau found this to be true : 
for having first rejected the hirthright, he was rejected when 
he would have (wished to have) inherited the blessing, although 
he sought it with tears." — Works, vol. iv. p. 2164. 

He says of the Book of Life, in his New Jerusalem, " We 
are to understand, I say, that book which hath written in it 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 405 

(the names) of every visible saint, whether they be elect or 
not ; or such a Book as is capable of receiving a man at one 
time, and of blotting him out at another, as occasion requires. 
O, how happy is lie who is not a visible, but an invisible saint ! 
He shall not be blotted out of the Book of God's eternal grace 
and mercy."— P. 2403. 

In his Confession of Faith, he says, " I believe that Election 
is free and permanent ; — that it doth not forestall or prevent 
the means which God appointed to bring us unto Christ ; but 
rather putteth a necessity upon the use thereof. — 1 believe that 
the Elect are considered in Christ always ; and that ivithout 
Him, there is neither election, grace, nor salvation. — I believe 
that there is not any impediment attending the Election of 
God, that can hinder their conversion and eternal salvation ; 
— (but) we are predestinated to be conformed to the image of 
his Son." In the article from which these extracts are made, 
Reprobation is not even named ; and there is no article on 
the subject in his Confession. — Works, vol. i. p. 262. 

There is a curious Map (by himself) in the old Folio Edi- 
tions of Bunyan's Works, " showing the order and causes of 
Salvation and Damnation," on a group of white and black 
Medals. The white Medals are hung from the Ct)venant of 
Grace ; and Election is the highest of them : the black arc 
hung from the Covenant of Works, and Reprobation is the 
highest. Rut it is hung by the black line of justice, as the 
former is by the white line of grace. — Vol. i. p. 414. 

I might multiply proofs of Bunyan's moderation on this sub- 
ject, from his works : but I prefer to illustrate it by facts. 
Now John Denne, his chief opponent, who hated Calvinism 
even more than open Communion (if I understand his logic) 
treated him respectfully as a Calvinist. Denne's logic, if it 
would not puzzle Aristotle himself, would astound him by its 
alternate weakness and force. He must, however, have re- 
duced Bunyan, and Calvinists of all grades, to a dilemma, 
when he dared him to reconcile with his assertion that God 
was no respecter of per^owsi, his denial that God had any re- 
spect to qualifications, in showing mercy. "If he respect 
neither Persons nor Qualifications," Denne argues, " then 
there is nothing else about man to consider. He has nothing 
to respect in choosing or refusing." — Old Tract. In like 
manner. Bishop Fowler's answer to the Treatise on Justifica- 
tion, pours all its abuse upon Bunyan's Luiheranism on that 
point, and lets his Calvinism alone. Besides, both Dr. Owen 



406 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

and Henry Jesse were his friends : a sure proof that he was 
no hyper-calvinist. 

On these grounds I venture to reject the claims of the 
Treatise on Reprobation to be Bunyan's, as they now appear. 
They rest upon no ground but their place in Hogg's edition. 
True ; that was edited by Mason, the author of the Notes on 
the Pilgrim's Progress ; a man incapable of fraud. He was, 
indeed, a high Calvinist ; but he was a higher Moralist. It is 
doubtful, however, if Mason read all the Treatises he admitted 
into his edition of Bunyan. If he did, he was no critic. He 
admitted " The Exhortation to Peace and Unity," although it 
abounds in classical references, and scholastic phrases, and 
fine writing. Almost any other man would have asked how 
John Bunyan came to quote Plutarch, Cambden, and Stilling- 
fleet's Irenicum. If Latin words did not startle him, the 
Indian word Habamach (the evil Spirit) ought to have done 
so. Besides, the author, whoever he was, was evidently 
familiar with both Gnostic and Grecian history. His work 
is, however, quite in Bunyan's spirit, and smacks occasionally 
of his style ; and thus it misled Mason. And yet, the only 
passage in it, very like Bunyan, is the question, " Why should 
I be thought to be against a fire in the chimney, because I say 
it must not be in the thatch of the house ?" But even this is 
an apology for not making " the laying on of hands" essential 
to Church fellowship, although the writer believed it to be an 
apostolic ordinance. I am not sure that Bunyan regarded 
Imposition of hands in this light. I am, however, quite sure 
that he never would have enforced Baptism, as an initiatory 
ordinance, which this work does, without assigning reasons 
for such a change in his opinion ; nor would he have made 
Baptism a condition of communion, without saying that he 
did not mean immersion only. 

Thus Mason mistook in one instance certainly ; and there- 
fore he may have been heedless in the former. It is not 
meant by all this, however, to say that Bunyan held very dif- 
ferent views of Reprobation from those in the Treatise : but 
that he did not write the Treatise. It is unlike both his head 
and heart. It is not too clever for him ; but it is too cold- 
blooded. Its style also, like that of the tract on Unity, is not 
Saxon. Whoever, therefore, ascribed the dialectics of the 
one, or the literature of the other, to Bunyan, betrayed as 
much ignorance of him, as the author of the Decretals of Iso- 
dorus did of the primitive Bishops, when he made the contem- 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 407 

poraries of Quintilian and Tacitus speak the monkish Latin of 
the ninth century. 

In regard to Bunyan's own Calvinism, the Pilgrim's Pro- 
gress is not an unfair representative of its spirit. It never 
silences nor shackles him, either in inviting all sinners to be- 
lieve the Gospel, or in warning all saints against apostacy. 
It is, however, as a theory, very imperfect, although superior to 
that of many. Its grand defect is, — that it argues from the 
Remnant elected out of the Jewish Church when she was ju- 
dically blinded, as if that remnant was a fair specimen of Elec- 
tion until the end of time, and amongst all nations. Bunyan's 
is not the only Calvinism which does this. This, indeed, is 
the fault of all Calvinism, which deserves the name. Armini- 
anism, however, does not mend the matter, by eschewing this 
fault. Sovereignty evidently reigns, notwithstanding all de- 
nials of Election. In this dilemma, Paul's one maxim, that 
God shows mercy according to the counsel and good pleasure 
of His own Will, is worth more than all the Calvinism and 
Arminianism in the world, to a man who wants mercy for 
himself. For as Calvinism cannot tell him what the Will of 
God towards him is ; and as Arminianism dare not tell him 
that he can force the Divine Will, nor that he can be saved 
against that Will, he has thus no alternative but to throw 
himself upon the good pleasure of Sovereign Grace, or to aban- 
don himself to despair. When will it be generally understood, 
that Paul's argument in the Romans regarded the range of 
election amongst the divorced Jews, and not amongst the be- 
trothed Gentiles ? It was not Paul who threw the Will of the 
Testator into Chancery. His object in the Epistle is, to take 
it out of the Chancery, into which the Jewish converts had 
thrown it, in order to disinherit the Gentiles. Accordingly, 
it is only of the Jews he says, that there was but a remnant 
elected. 



409 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 



CHAPTER XXXIX. 

bunyan's trinitarianism. 

It is, of course, no information to the public, to say that 
Bunyan was a Trinitarian. Even the Unitarians, fond as 
they are of claiming men of genius and renown, have been 
unable to press John Bunyan into their schedule, notwith- 
standing all his catholicity, and his demonstrations (" to boot," 
as he would have said) of the proper humanity of the Son of 
Mary. It is, however, not very obvious why he thought it 
necessary to defend or define his Trinitarianism. The Uni- 
tarian holders of old orthodox endowments may find no diffi- 
culty in naming the Latitudinarians, who alarmed Bunyan ; 
but ordinary readers feel themselves at a loss. Poor Bidale 
was dead before Bunyan entered the field. Besides, Dr. 
Owen, in 1665, had " washed the paint from the porch of Mr. 
Biddle's fabric, and shown it to be a composition of rotten 
posts and dead men's bones, whose plaisler being removed, 
their abomination lies naked to all." — Pref. Vind, Evan. 
And as Biddle was too early for Bunj^an, Matthew Caffin, the 
General Baptist, was too late. It seems to have been in 1692, 
that Caffin expressed his Socinianism " with great freedom.'' 
— Taylor^s Gen, Bapt. How then are we to account for 
Bunyan's solemn protests and warnings against Antitrinitari- 
anism ? 

It is not easy to answer this question, without bringing the 
orthodoxy of the General Baptists of that age into more doubt 
than the great bulk of them deserve. There were almost Socinians 
amongst them ; but the proceedings of the Assembly in the 
case of Caffin, prove that the body were upon the whole Trini- 
tarian. These proceedings, however, prove also, not only that 



LIFE OP BUNYAN. 409 

there were Latltudinarians, not a few, on this subject ; but 
also that there was something in both the letter and spirit of 
their original Confessions of Faith, which could be wielded 
by either party with much plausibility. This is the case, 
now that they form two distinct Bodies. Both the or- 
thodox and the heterodox General Baptists appeal to the same 
Confessions : and each with more reason than either seems 
inclined to acknowledge. It was, however, to the Confessions 
of Faith, which both call the Creed of their Founders, that 
Bunyan referred when he showed, « How a young or shaken 
Christian should demean himself under i^ei^% thoughts of the 
Trinity, or the plurality of Persons in the Eternal Godhead." 
— Works, vol. ii. p. 1107. 

The facts of the case are these ; whatever use either party 
may make of them. The Confession signed by Grantham, 
Caffin, &c. on behalf of 20,000 Baptists, and presented to the 
King at the Restoration, runs thus, 1. We believe, and are 
very confident, that there is but one God, the Father, of whom 
are all things.~3. That there is one Lord Jesus Christ hy 
whom are all things, who is the only-begotten Son of God, 
born of the Virgin Mary, yet as truly 'David's Lord as David's 
root — 7. That there is one Holy Spirit, the precious gift of 
God, freely given to such as obey him, that they may thereby 
be thoroughly sanctified. There are three that bear record in 
heaven ; the Father, the Word, and the Holy Spirit.— Cro%, 
vol. ii. Appendix, p. 79. 

Now there is Trinitarianism here, certainly ; but, as cer- 
tainly, put in a strange order. Not in this order, nor in these 
phrases, except in the quotation from John, did " The Seven 
Churches in London, commonly but unjustly, called Anabap- 
tists," state their faith in 1646. "The Lord our God is but 
one God ; but in this Infinite Being there is the Father, the 
Word, and the Holy Spirit ; — each having the whole divine 
essence ; yet the essence undivided ; all infinite without any 
beginning ; therefore but one God." — Crosby, vol. i. Appen- 
dix, p. 7, 

It was this difference between the two great Confessions, 
which alarmed'Bunyan. And even Taylor, the candid histo- 
rian of the General Baptists, says, in reference to these times, 
"On this sublime subject, two parties may be discerned 
amongst the General Baptists. " " The much more respectable 
both for numbers and character, — spoke with great caution in 
their explanations of the essence and attributes of the Infinite 
35 



410 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

Being ; generally using scripture terms, and never venturing 
to explain or define what they reverently deemed, in their own 
expressive phrase, ' unwordable.' The latter (party) were the 
subscribers of the orthodox Creed. But these two parties dif- 
fered more in appearance than in reality, though the one 
dared not to use the language of the other." — Gen. Bapt. 
Hist. vol. i. p. 364. 

This is quite enough for my purpose ; which is, to show 
why Bunyan defined as well as defended, Trinitarianism. 
He evidently thought with Owen, whose sagacity in the mat- 
ter, Orme says, " looks almost like a prediction," that the 
fearless speculations about " Freewill, Universal Redemption, 
and Apostacy from Grace, were ready to gather to the head 
of Socinianism." Orme adds, " It is a singular fact, that the 
career of many has been substantially what the Dr. here de- 
scribes ; from Calvinism to Arminianism, Arianism, and final- 
ly Socianism. Priestlej^, Kippis, and Robinson were all illus- 
trations" of this. — Orme's Life of Dr. Owen, p. 216. 

There is much solemn truth in these remarks. It is, 
however, only bare justice to say, that the great Confession of 
the General Baptists in 1660, is so orthodox on the whole, 
that a moderate Cavinist (and Ivimey says there were " none 
of those then who are now called high) might sign it with a 
good conscience, upon an emergency which called for union. 
Accordingly, it was signed, if Henry Adis may be believed, by 
" some persons of the par/ia//ar judgment," as was that of the 
Seven Churches in London " by some of another persuasion." 
The fact is, both parties were labouring under one odium, and 
exposed to a common danger, and thus equally interested in 
Articles of Peace. But the Article on the Trinity, which was 
for peace' sake in 1660, was turned into a weapon of war by 
the Socinianized Baptists, in 1670, although only secretly 
wielded as such then. Bunyan knew this, and had seen some 
of those who were wounded or shaken by its secret thrusts ; 
and therefore he both counselled them and warned others. 
This seems to have been the origin of the following masterly 
sketch of Trinitarianism. 

" OF THE PERSONS, OR SUBSISTENCES, IN THE GODHEAD. 

" The Godhead is but one, yet in the Godhead there are 
three ; ' There are Three that can bear record in heaven.' 
These three are called, the Father, the Son, the Holy Spirit ; 



LIPEOFBUNYAN. 411 

each of which is really, naturally and eternally God : yet there 
is but one God. But again, because the Father is of himself, 
the Son by the Father, and the Spirit from them both ; there- 
fore, to each, the Scripture not only applietb, and that truly, 
the whole nature of the Deity, but again distinguisheth the 
Father from the Son, and the Spirit from them both ; calling 
the Father he, by himself: the Son he, by himself; the Spirit 
he, by himself. Yea, the three of themselves, in their mani- 
festing to the church what she should believe concerning this 
matter hath thus expressed the thing ; ' Let us make man in 
our image, after our likeness.' Again, 'The man is become 
like one of us.' Again, ' Let us go down, and there confound 
their language.' And again, 'Whom shall I send, and who 
will go for us V To these general expressions might be 
added, ' That Adam heard the voice of the Lord God walking 
in the midst of the garden :' which voice John will have to be 
one of the Three, calling that which Moses here saith is the 
voice, the Word of God. ' In the beginning (saith he) was the 
Word ;' the voice which Adam heard walking in the midst 
of the garden. ' This Word (saith John) was with God, this 
Word was God : the same was in the beginning with God.' 
Marvellous language ! once asserting the unity of essence, 
but twice insinuating a distinction of substances therein. 
' The Word was with God, the Word was God ; the same was 
in the beginning with God.' Then follows, ' All things were 
made by him, the Word, the Second of the three.' 

" Now the godly, in former ages, have called these three 
thus in the Godhead, persons or substances ; the which, though 
I condemn not, yet choose rather to abide by scripture phrase, 
knowing, though the other may be good and sound, yet the 
adversary must needs more shamelessly spurn and reject, when 
he doth it against the evident text. 

*' To proceed then ; 1 . There are Three. 2. These Three 
are distinct. 

" 1st. By this word Three, is intimated the Father, the 
Word, and the Holy Ghost. And they are said to be three, 
(1.) Because those appellations that are given them in Scrip- 
ture, demonstrate them so to be, to wit, Father, Son, and Holy 
Ghost. (2.) Because their acts one towords another discover 
them so to be. 

" 2d. These three are distinct. (1.) So distinct as to be 
more than one only. There are three. (2.) So distinct as to 
subsist without depending. The Father is true God, the Son 



412 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

is true God, the Spirit is true God. Yet the Father is one, 
the Son is one, the Spirit is one. The Father is one of him- 
self, the Son is one by the Father, the Spirit is one from them 
both. Yet the Father is not above the Son, nor the Spirit in- 
ferior to either. The Father is God, the Son is God, the Spi- 
rit is God. 

<' Among the three then there is not superiority. 

" 1. Not as to time : The Father is from everlasting, so is 
the Son, so is the Spirit. 2. Not as to nature : The Son be- 
ing of the substance of the Father, and the Spirit of the sub- 
stance of them both. 3. The fulness of the Godhead is in the 
Father, is in the Son, and is in the Holy Ghost. The God- 
head then, though it can admit of a Trinity, yet it admitteth 
not of an inferiority in that Trinity. If otherwise, then less 
or more must be there, and so either plurality of gods, or some- 
thing that is not God ; so then, Father, Son, and Spirit are in 
the Godhead, yet but one God ; each of these is God over all, 
yet no Trinity of Gods, but one God in the Trinity. 

" The Godhead then is common to the three, but the three 
themselves abide distinct in that Godhead : distinct, I say, £is 
Father, and Son, and Holy Spirit. 

" This is manifest further by these several positions. 

"1. Father and Son are relatives, and must needs therefore 
have their relation as such : A Father begetteth, a Son is 
begotton. 

^^ Proof. ' Who hath ascended up into Heaven, or descend- 
ed ? w^ho hath gathered the wind in his fist 1 who hath bound 
the waters in a garment 1 What is his name, and what is his 
Son's name, if thou canst tell ?' ' God so loved the world, that 
he gave his only begotton Son,' &;c. ' The Father sent the 
Son to be the Saviour of the world.' 

"2. The Father then cannot be that Son he begat, nor 
the Son that Father that begat him, but must be distinct as 
such. 

*\Proof. ' I am one that beareth witness of myself, and the 
Father that sent me beareth witness of me.' 'I came forth 
from the Father, and am come into the world.' Again, * I 
leave the world, and go to the Father.' 

"' The Father judgeth no man, but hath committed all judg- 
ment unto the Son, that all men should honour the Son, even as 
they honour the Father.' 

" 3. The Father must have worship as a Father, and the Son 
?is a Son, 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 413 

" Proof. *■ They that worship the father must worship him 
in spirit and in truth ; for the Father seeketh such to worship 
him.' 

" And of the Son he saith, ' And when he bringeth his first- 
begotten into the world, he saith, And let all the angels of God 
worship him.' 

" 4. The Father and Son have really those distinct, but 
heavenly relative properties, that discover them, as such to be 
two as well as one. 

^' Proof. ' The Father loveth the Son, and shovveth him all 
things.' 'Therefore doth my Father love me, because I lay 
down my life, that I may take it again.' The Father sent the 
Son ; the Father commanded the Son ; the Son prayed to the 
Father, and did always the things that pleased him. 

" The absurdities that flow from the denial of this are di- 
vers ; some of which hereunder follow. 

"1. It maketh void all those scriptures that do affirm the 
doctrine ; some of which you have before. 

" 2. If in the Godhead there be but one, not three, then the 
Father, Son, or the Spirit must needs be that one, if any one 
only : so then the other two are nothing. Again, if the re- 
ality of a being be neither in the Father, Son, nor Spirit, as 
such, but in the eternal Deity, without consideration of Father, 
Son and Spirit, as three ; then neither of the three are any 
thing but notions in us, or manifestations of the Godhead, or 
nominal distinctions, so related by the Word : but if so, then 
when the Father sent the Son, and the Father and Son the 
Spirit, one notion sent another, one manifestation sent another. 
This being granted, this unavoidably follows, there was no 
Father to beget a Son, no Son to be sent to save us, no Holy 
Ghost to be sent to comfort us, and to guide us into all the 
truth of the Father and Son, dec. The most amounts but to 
this, a notion sent a notion, a distinction sent a distinction, or 
one manifestation sent another. Of this error, these are the 
consequences ; we are only to believe in notions and distinc- 
tions, when we believe in the Father and the Son ; and so 
shall have no other heaven and glory than notions and nominal 
distinctions can furnish us withal. 

" 3. If Father and Son, &,c. be no otherwise three than as 
notions, names, or nominal distinctions, then to worship these 
distinctly, or together, as such, is to commit most gross and 
horrible idolatry ; for albeit we are commanded to fear that 
great and dreadful name, * The Lord our God ;' yet to worship 
35* 



414 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

a Father, a Son, and Holy Spirit in the Godhead, as three, as 
really three as one, is by this doctrine to imagine falsely of 
God, and so to break the second commandment : but to wor- 
ship God under the consideration of Father, and Son, and 
Holy Ghost, and to believe them as really three as one when 
1 worship, being the sum and substance of the doctrine of the 
Scriptures of God, there is really substantially three in the 
eternal Godhead. 

" But to help thee a little in thy study on this deep. 

" 1. Thou must take heed when thou readest, there is in the 
Godhead, Father and Son, &c. that thou do not imagine about 
them according to thine own carnal and foolish fancy ; for no 
man can apprehend this docrine but in the light of the word 
and Spirit of God : ' No man knoweth the Son but the Father ; 
neither knoweth any man the Father save the Son ; and he to 
whom the Son will reveal him.' If, therefore, thou be desti- 
tute of the Spirit of God, thou canst not apprehend the truth 
of this mystery, as it is in itself, but will either by thy dark- 
ness be driven to a denial thereof; or if thou own it, thou 
wilt, (notwithstanding thy acknowledgment) falsely imagine 
about it. 

" 2. If thou feel thy thoughts begin to wrestle about this 
truth, and to struggle concerning this, one against another, 
take heed of admitting of such a question. How can this thing 
be ? for here is no room for reason to make it out ? here is 
only room to believe it is a truth. You find not one of the 
prophets propounding an argument to prove it, but asserting it ; 
they let it lie for faith to take it up and embrace it. 

" The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, 
and the communion of the Holy Ghost, be with you all. 
Amen." 

I preserve this document to prove how well Bunyan could 
define and compress even upon the most difficult of all subjects. 
This characteristic of his power is the more interesting, be- 
cause he always approached the doctrine of the Trinity with 
awful solemnity as well as modesty. He did not reckon 
the doctrine " unwordahW^ exactly ; but he did better ; he 
cherished the habitual conviction, that the mystery is " enough 
to crush the spirit, and stretch the strings of the most capa- 
cious and widened soul that breatheth on this side of Glory, 
even if exceedingly enlarged by revelation." — Worlcs, vol. 
ii. p. 1107. 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 415 



CHAPTER XL. 

bunyan's catholicity. 

When one of the strict Baptists told Bunyan, that " as great 
men's servants are known by their livery, so are gospel Be- 
lievers by the livery of water-baptism," Bunyan said, " Go you 
but ten doors from where men know you, — and see how many 
of the world, or Christians, will know you by this goodly 
livery. What ! — known by water-baptism to be one who 
hath put on Christ, as a servant by the gay livery his master 
gave him ? Away, fond man ; you do quite forget the text, — 
*By this shall all men know that ye are My disciples, if ye 
Love one another !"'—WorA:5, vol. ii. p. 1238. This Text 
was Bunyan's watchword ; and he gave all men the full bene- 
fit of it, who held the great doctrines of the Reformation, how- 
ever they might differ from him as to discipline or forms. 
His love of the Brethren was not, indeed, confined to Protes- 
tants. It embraced all who loved the Lord Jesus Christ in 
sincerity. Where he saw love to Him, he thought of nothing 
else. Accordingly, in his review of the character and spirit 
of the Martyrs, he names nothing else. What they thought 
of Christ, regulated all his thoughts of them. This maxim 
makes his sketches of them brief; but it renders them highly 
characteristic of his own spirit ; as will be seen by the follow- 
ing specimens of his review. 

" Ignatius found that in Christ that made him choose to go 
through the torments of the Devil and hell itself, rather than 
not to have him. 

" What saw Romanus in Christ when he said to the raging 
Emperor, who threatened him with fearful torments, ' Thy 
sentence, Emperor, I joyfully embrace, and refuse not to be 
sacrificed — by as cruel torments as thou canst invent V 

*' What saw Menas the Egyptian in Christ when he said 
under most cruel torments, ' There is nothing in my mind that 



416 LIFEOFBtJNYAN. 

can be compared to the kingdom of heaven ; neither is all the 
world, if it was weighed in a balance, to be preferred with the 
price of one soul. Who is able to separate us from the love 
of Jesus Christ our Lord ? And I have learned of my Lord 
and King not to fear them that kill the body.' 

"What did Eulaliah see in Christ when she said as they 
were pulHng her one joint from another, ' Behold, O Lord, I 
will not forget thee : What a pleasure is it for them, O Christ, 
that remember thy triumphant victory V 

" What think you did Agnes see in Christ when rejoicing, 
ly she went to meet the soldier, that was appointed to be her 
executioner? 'I will willingly,' said she, ' receive into my 
heart the length of this sword, and into my breast will draw 
the force thereof, even to the hilts ; that thus I, being married 
to Christ my spouse, may surmount and escape all the dark- 
ness of this world.' 

" What do you think did Julitta see in Christ, when at the 
Emperor's telling her, that except she would worship the gods, 
she should never have protection, laws, judgments nor life, she 
replied, < Farewell life, welcome death ; farewell riches, wel- 
come poverty. All that I have, if it were a thousand times 
more, would I give, rather than to speak one wicked and blas- 
phemous word against my Creator V 

" What did Marcus Arethusius see in Christ when after his 
enemies did cut his flesh, anointed it with honey, and hanged 
him up in a basket for flies and bees to feed on, he would not 
give (to uphold idolatry) one halfpenny to save his life ? 

" But what need I give thus particular instances of words 
and smaller actions, when by their lives, their blood, their endur- 
ing hunger, sword, fire, pulling asunder, and all torments that 
the Devil and hell could devise, they showed their love to 
Christ, after they were come to him ?" — Works, vol. i. p. 418. 

The man who loved the Dead according to this rule, was not 
likely to draw nice distinctions amongst " the living in Jeru- 
salem." He did not, although long and often tempted by the 
close Communionists to do so. For they did more than abuse 
him publicly for his catholicity. They tampered privately 
with him and others, *' for no less than sixteen or eighteen 
years." He was not willing to reveal this inconsistency of 
the men who reviled him. But when they affected to despise 
him too, he told all the truth. " What kind of a you am I," 
he says, " that you thus trample my person, my gifts and 
grace (if I have any) so disdainfully under your feet ? Myself 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 417 

they have se7it for, and endeavoured to persuade me to break 
communion with my brethren. Also with many others have 
they often tampered, if haply their seeds of division might 
take."— Vol. ii. p. 1205. 

Bunyan pleaded the cause of all Pa?dobaptists as firmly 
as he did his own. He would " know no man after the 
flesh," when liberty of conscience, or the right of private judg- 
ment, was invaded. Then he could cast John of Ley den in 
the teeth of the strict Baptists, as openly as Gunning or Feat- 
ley quoted John against all Baptists : — not, indeed, in order to 
bring odium upon them ; but to make them ashamed of them- 
selves for their approaches to the Leyden spirit. " What say 
you," he asks, " to John of Leyden 1 Wliat work did he make 
by the abuse of the ordinance of baptism ? I wish that this age 
had not given cause, through the church-rending spirits some 
possess, for making complaint in this matter ; who also had 
for their engine the baptism with water. You yourself. Sir, 
would not stick to make inroads and outroads too, in all the 
Churches in the land, that suit not your fancy. You have 
already been bold to affirm, ' that all those who have baptized 
infants ought to be ashamed, and repent, before they be showed 
the pattern of the House.' What is this but to threaten, 
could you have your will of them, that you would quickly take 
from them their present church privileges, and let them see 
nothing of them, till subjection to water-baptism especially 
was found to attend each of them." — Works, vol. ii. p. 1212. 

In opposition to this, Bunyan's maxim was, " I am for 
communion with saints because they are saints. I shut none 
of the brethren out of the churches, nor forbid them that 
would receive them. I am for union and concord with saints 
as saints." This was so well known to be the fact, that his 
opponents could only say that he shut them out from his pulpit : 
and this all the Churches of his order did ; but merely because 
of their ^^church-rending principles." And as to the strict 
Baptists who were not preachers, they were not likely to ap- 
ply for admission to the Sacrament where Bunyan presided. 
Those of them who were in Bedfordshire would not, he says, 
even ^^ pray with men as good as themselves: but would, 
either like Quakers, stand with their hats on their heads, or 
else withdraw until we had done."— Vol. ii. p. 1244. 

Bedfordshire has been very different ever since Bunyan's 
death ! Indeed, through all his diocese, his catholic spirit still 
prevails amongst the dissenting Churches, — and as his spirit. 



418 LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 

They would say now in his words, " Show us the man that is 
a visible believer, and that walkcth with God, and though he 
differ with us about baptism, the doors of the Church stand 
open to him, and to all our heaven-born privileges he shall be 
admitted." When will the American Baptists speak this 
language ? Is it true that only one American Baptist Church 
ever tried the experiment of open Communion ; and that it 
proved an utter failure? 

Next to his Bible, nothing had more influence upon Bun- 
yan than the judgment of the great and good Henry Jesse, on 
this subject. That noble-minded man exclaimed, (and all 
Bunyan's soul responded,) " O, how is the heart of God set 
upon having his children in His House, and in each others' 
hearts as they are in His Heart — and as they are upon the 
shoulders and breast of His Son, their high-priest ! And, as 
if all this will not do it, — but the devil will divide them still, 
— the God of Peace will come in shortly, and bruise Satan 
under their feet." — Jesse's Judgment, p. 4. We can almost 
hear yet. — Bunyan's "Amen, even so, come quickly !" 

It must not be supposed from the contrast he thus presents, 
that all the strict Baptists of his time were equally strict. He 
was, indeed, far a-head of all his contemporaries, except Jesse ; 
but still a few would have overtaken him had they not been 
held back by local influence. He has not named them, 
and I cannot ; but he says, " This I thank God for, — that 
some of the Brethren for this way are, of late, more moderate 
than formerly : and that those who retain their former sour- 
ness still, are left by their Brethren to the vinegar of their 
own spirit ; their brethren ingenuously confessing that, could 
their company bear it, they have liberty in their own souls 
to communicate with saints as saints." — Works, vol. iii. p. 
1269. 

We can hardly expect from Bunyan any compliments to 
the Church of England. She deserved none at his hand. 
Indeed, the wonder is, that he did not retaliate sevejely. 
He could have done so ; and it was not fear that prevented 
him. The fact is, he loved the Doctrinal Articles of the 
Church more than he hated the Prayer Book. He saw in 
them, a testimony and a barrier against Popery, which he 
deemed favourable to Christianity. It was, therefore, with 
perfect sincerity, that he said in the preface of his Work, 
against Bishop Fowler's Legalism, " Gentle Reader, a 
Minister of the Church of England overthroweth the whole- 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 419 

some doctrine of that Church." Accordingly, he says, at the 
close of the Work, " The Points in controversy between us 
are (as I do heartily believe) Fundamental Truths of the 
Christian religion. Let all men know, — that I quarrel not 
with him about things wherein I dissent from the Church of 
England ; but do contend for the truth contained in these 
very Articles, from which he hath so deeph revolted." — Jus- 
tification Defended, 

Dr. Southey did himself great credit when he said of Bun- 
yan. — " His was indeed so Catholic a spirit, that though cir- 
cumstances had made him a Sectarian, he liked not to be 
called by the denomination of his Sect." There were more 
reasons for paying this compliment than the one Dr. Southey 
has quoted. Bimyan not only proclaimed that the title Bap- 
tists belonged to none, " so properly as to the disciples of 
John ;" but also rebuked those of them who " spoke stoutly, 
and a hundred times over," against the Baptism of the Church 
of England, as Antichristian. — Works, vol. ii. p. 1245. He 
held, indeed, all party titles to be "factious ;" and because 
they tended to division, he traced their origin to " Babylon 
and Hell," not to "Jerusalem, or Antioch." He himself claimed 
and begged to be called only as a " Christian — a Believer, or 
any other such name which is approved by the Holy Ghost." 
His reasons for all this, are equally strong and beautiful ; and 
they will have equal weight some day, although they had none 
when he uttered them, and but little now. I will quote no 
more of them than just what Dr. Southey has recorded, that 
posterity may see, when, " the times of reformation shall 
come," how well Bunyan reasoned, and how iwophetically the 
Doctor selected the very arguments which will annihilate the 
first principles of his Book of the Church, and the last vestiges 
of sectarianism in all Churches. — " Divisions run Religion 
into briars and thorns ; contentions and parties. Divisions 
are to Churches, like wars to countries : where war is, the 
ground lieth waste and untilled ; none takcth care of it. When 
men are divided, they seldom speak the Truth in love ; and 
then no marvel they grow not up to Him in all things who is 
the Head. It is a sad presage of an approaching Famine (as 
one well observes) — not of bread, nor water, but of the Word 
of God, when the thin ears of Corn devour the plump full 
ones ; — when our controversies about doubtful things, and 
things of less moment, cat up our zeal for the more indisputa- 
ble and practical things in religion; — which may give us 



420 L I F E O f B U ]N' Y A N . 

reason to fear that this will be the character by which our 
age will be known to posterity, — that it was the age which 
talked of Religion most, and loved it least. Jars and divisions, 
wranglings and prejudices, eat out the growth, if not the life 
of religion. These are those waters of Marah, that embitter 
our spirit, and quench the Spirit of God. Unity and Peace 
are said to be like the dew of Hermon, and as a dew that de- 
scended upon Sion, when the Lord promised his blessing." — 
Southey^s Bunyan, p. 77. 

Bunyan cherished fond and even brilliant hopes of the 
eventual reign of Love in the kingdom of Christ ; but not ex- 
travagant expectations. " I know," he says, " there are ex- 
travagant opinions in the world, about the kingdom of Christ, 
— as if it consisted in temporal glory, and as if He would take 
it to him by carnal weapons, and so maintain its greatness and 
grandeur. But I confess myself an alien to these notions, 
and believe and profess quite the contrary. I look for the 
coming of Christ to judgment personally ; but betwixt this 
and that, for His coming in the Spirit, and in the power of 
his Word to destroy Antichrist, — to inform Kings, — and so to 
give quietness to His Church on earth. Let not, therefore, 
Kings, Princes, or Potentates be afraid ; the Saints, that are 
such indeed, know their places, and are of a peaceable disposi- 
tion."— Wbr A;*, vol. iii. p. 1851. Thus, even his Millenarian- 
ism was full of peace on earth, and of good will towards all 
men. 

Did then Bunyan see nothing against the Church of Eng- 
land? I answer unhesitatingly, — nothing directly against 
either her general Creed or Constitution, so far as I can dis- 
cover. He said much against admitting the profane and the 
ungodly to the Sacrament, and more against blind Priests 
preaching doctrine subversive of both the letter and spirit of 
the Thirty-nine Articles ; but nothing against Episcopacy as 
such, nor more against the Clergy than Bishop Burnet did. 
Not, however, that he believed a word about diocesan Episco- 
pacy. How could he ; seeing he had no books besides his 
Bible, except the Book of Martyrs? and all the Protestant 
Bishops, it made him acquainted with, he loved and revered 
with all his heart. He gave the same unhesitating and grate- 
ful homage to the Episcopalian, as to the primitive Martyrs. 
In saying this, I do not forget, nor wish to conceal, that Bun- 
yan identified with Antichrist, — all that was human, secular, 
or sectarian, in both Episcopacy and Presbyterianism, just as 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 421 

he identified with Babylon the Shibboleth of the Baptist. And, 
with what else could he identify either ? Great allowance 
ought to be made for a man who had read nothing but his 
Bible, on these subjects. For had we nothing else to read, 
we should soon feel ashamed of our differences. The Bible, 
and the Bible only, is, indeed, the Religion of Protestants in- 
asmuch as nothing is religion but what it enjoins : but we 
have, in all our Churches, more things than our religion. The 
Prisoner of Bedford saw this, and said so to all Churches : and, 
certainly, no man could have said it, who more deserves our 
respect. Posterity, at least, will admire his spirit on this sub- 
ject, as much as we admire his Pilgrims. They will relish, if 
we do not, this " New Honey in a B ;" — if I may be al- 
lowed to apply his own pun upon his name, to his own Catho- 
licity. 



3§ 



422 LIFEOFBUNYAN, 



CHAPTER XLI. 



BUNYANS RELEASE 



If any Bishop either procured, or directly helped to obtairr> 
Bunyan's liberation, he deserves to be called " The Angel of 
the Church" of England, and ought to be named for ever 
along with the Angel who released Peter from prison. No 
man would more readily or cheerfully award this tribute of 
gratitude to Bishop Barlow, than myself, if I could make it 
even highly probable that Bunyan was indebted to him for 
liberty. Now there are, certainly, some probabilities in Bar- 
low's favour. No other Bishop has ever been named, as at 
all friendly to Bunyan, or as even affected in the least by his 
sufferings : whereas, there can be no doubt that he both sym^ 
pathized with him and interchanged (not Letters indeed, but) 
messages with Dr. Owen, about " straining a point to serve" 
the author of the Pilgrim's Progress. That Work could not 
fail to commend itself to such a scholar as Dr. Barlow ; and, 
as he was a Calvinist of Bunyan's order, and thus obnoxious 
to Archbishop Sheldon, he would naturally prize a popular 
Allegoiy which threw around the Genevan creed the charms 
of genius and practical wisdom. Accordingly, all testimo- 
ny concurs in the fact, that he both admired and pitied 
Bunyan. I give prominence as well as priority to this fact, 
that it may make its own impression, and maintain its influ- 
ence in favour of Dr. Barlow, whilst other facts claim our at- 
tention. 

Now Bunyan was released from prison, at least two years 
before Dr. Barlow was made Bishop of Lincoln ; and thus 
whatever he owed to the Doctor, he owed nothing to the 
Bishop, in the matter. Bunyan was released late in 1672, or 
early in 1673 ; and Barlow was not raised to the Bench until 
1675. It does not follow from this, however, that he had no 
influence with the State before he was made a Prelate. The 
probability is, indeed, that he had more influence before than 
after ; as Sheldon was not his friend, nor Calvinism a court 
virtue then. He was, however, too near the Bench in 1672, 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 423 

to employ his own influence directly, even for Bunyan, al- 
though Owen appealed to him as his old tutor : but he may 
have used some, though not at Owen's request. This, I have 
no doubt, is the true solution of Barlow's conduct. He had 
enemies on the Bench, because of his Calvinism ; and he was 
afraid of making more, by patronizing even a nonconformist 
Genius, at the request of a nonconformist Doctor. He thus 
persuaded himself that he could not afford to be liberal, until 
the Mitre was upon his head. 

Ivimey's version of this affair is as follows : " This event has 
been generally ascribed to Dr. Barlow, Bishop of Lincoln. 
What assistance he afforded, may be seen by the following ex- 
tract from the Preface to Dr. Owen's Sermon, p. 30, printed 
at London, 1721. The author observes that ' notwithstanding 
the Doctor's nonconformity, he had some friends among the 
Bishops, particularly Dr. Wilkins, Bishop of Chester, who 
was very cordial to him ; and Dr. Barlow, Bishop of Lincoln, 
formerly his tutor ; who yet, on a special occasion, failed him, 
when he might have expected the service of his professed 
friendship.' 

" ' The case was this, Mr. John Bunyan had been confined 
to a jail twelve years, upon an excommunication for noncon- 
formity ; now there was a law, that if any two persons will 
go to the bishop of the diocese, and offer a cautionary bond, 
that the prisoner shall conform in half a year, the bishop may 
release him upon that bond ; whereupon a friend of this poor 
man desired Dr. Owen to give him his letter to the bishop on 
his behalf, which he readily granted. The bishop having 
read it, told the person that delivered it, that he had a particu- 
lar kindness for Dr. Owen, and would deny him nothing he 
could legally do ; nay, says he, with my service to him, I will 
strain a point to serve him. (This was his very expression.) 
But, says he, this being a new thing to me I desire a little time 
to consider, it, and if I can do it you may be assured of my 
readiness. He was waited upon again about a fortnight after, 
and his answer was. That indeed he was informed he might 
do it ; but the law providing, that in case the bishop refused, 
application should be made to the Lord Chancellor, who there- 
upon should issue out an order to the bishop, to take the cau- 
tionary bond, and release the prisoner. Now, said he, you 
know what a critical time this is, and I have many enemies ; 
I would desire you to move the Lord Chanceller in tliis case, 
-and upon his order I will do it. To which it was replied, this 



424 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

method was very chargeable, and the man was poor, and not 
able to expend so much money, and being satisfied he could do 
it legally, it was hoped his Lordship would remember his pro- 
mise, there being no straining a point in the case. But he 
would do it upon no other terms, which at last was done ; but 
little thanks to the bishop.' 

" From this account, it should seem the honour given to Dr. 
Barlow has been ill-bestowed, as it is evident that even his 
friendship for Dr. Owen did not operate sufficiently powerfully 
to exercise his ability, lest it might expose him to the censures 
of the high church party." — Ivimey^s Bunyan, p. 291. 

This conclusion, although not exactly unfair, is drawn with 
more asperity than such facts warrant ; unless, indeed, it could 
be shown that Barlow had before him examples of magnani- 
mity, which ought to have inspired him to prefer Bunyan's 
rights, to an episcopal throne, as Frederic did Luther's, to the 
Pope's smile. But who ever risked a Mitre for the sake of a 
Nonconformist ? This is too much to expect from any man, 
who believes that a Mitre is useful ! It may be very easy for 
those who regard it as a mere bauble, and the episcopate as 
unscriptural, to assure themselves that they would have pre- 
ferred the fame of liberating John Bunyan, to the Primacy it- 
self. So would I. But this is nothing to the point. The 
real question is, ought Dr. Barlow, believing as he did in dio- 
cesan episcopacy, to have perilled his prospects for the sake 
of John Bunyan ? It is impossible to answer, except in the 
negative. He must have thought his own elevation a greater 
benefit to the world, than the liberty of Bunyan. It did not, 
indeed, turn out so : but who could h.a.ve foreseen that ? 

Besides, Barlow was not the man to make sacrifices of any 
kind, for the sake of Nonconformists. He was not a time- 
server, indeed ; but he humoured the times dexterously, in all 
things save his Calvinism. In 1660, whilst the King was yet 
talking about toleration, the Doctor wrote in favour of it to 
Sir Robert Boyle : but in 1684, he published a Charge to his 
Clergy, calling on them to enforce the laws against Dissenters, 
" agreeably to the Resolutions of the Bedfordshire Justices, 
(Bunyan's old enemies!) adopted at Ampthill." He published 
also, in 1679, a Treatise on the Canon Law for whipping He- 
retics : but whether for or against that canonical virtue, I 
cannot tell ; its title only being given in the Biog : Brit ; and 
in the Bibliographies. Another of his works attempts to prove 
that real grace ought to be judged of rather by its kind than 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 425 

its degree. And, perhaps, his own good will towards Bunyan 
can only be proved to be very hearty, by giving it all the be- 
nefit of this distinction. It was good in kind, but small in 
degree. Be it remembered, however, that it was both more 
and better than that of any Bishop of the age, elect or en- 
throned. I both remembered and felt this fact when, in a 
former chapter, I merely called the following passage from 
" The Life," in the British Museum, imperfect : " Dr. Barlow, 
Bishop of Lincoln, coming into these parts, and being truly 
informed of Mr. Bunyan's sufferings, took a speedy care, out 
of true Christian compassion, to be the main and chief instru- 
ment in his deliverance : for which, as a hearty acknowledg- 
ment, Mr. Bunyan returned him his unfeigned thanks, and 
often remembered him in his prayers, as next to God his deli- 
verer." This is, I think, substantially true of Dr. Barlow, 
although not at all so of the Bishop of Lincoln. The Mitre 
spoiled his sympathies, as it has done those of many ; but he 
must have befriended Bunyan in some way, at some time ; for 
all contemporary parties give him credit for it. 

This view of the matter will not, I fear, set the question 
at rest. Barlow's conduct in this affair, like his work on 
" Weighty Cases of Conscience," will be edited by a " Sir 
Peter Pe^," both for and against him ; but not on either side 
so wisely as did the worthy knight, in 1692. — Watts^ Biblio^ 
graphy. The pettish on one side will ask, where are Bunyan's 
own acknowledgments to Dr. Barlow ? And I can neither 
produce them, nor refuse to admit that their absence is a sus- 
picious fact ; for he was not the man to forget or conceal his 
obligations. On the other side, it will be asked, and not with- 
out reason, why should Dr. Barlow be deprived of all the 
credit, seeing there is no other claimant? Dr. Southcy felt 
the difficulty, and said, "How Bunyan's enlargement was 
effected is not known." I long entertained the opinion, that 
the Cabinet had sense enough, when the Pilgrim produced a 
sensation, to have done "the people a favour ;" but I found 
that to be a more untenable position than even the liberality 
of a Bishop. The Ministers of Charles IL had neither sense 
nor conscience enough to estimate Bunyan or his influence : 
whereas, the Bench knew, at least, the worth of popular talent. 

Mr. Ivimey, in his zeal to deprive Dr. Barlow of all credit, 

has sanctioned a view of the case, which Dr. Southey justly 

says, is "fraudulent." A "cautionary bond," it is said, was 

required, which pledged the prisoner to " conform in half a 

36* 



426 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

year." John Bunyan conform, or allow his friends to give 
any such bond for him ! " Nay, verily," he would have lain 
till the moss grew upon his eye-brows, rather than accept of, 
or accede to, deliverance on any such terms. Twelve years 
of imprisonment had not shaken his principles ; and his friends 
knew him too well to set their hearts against his conscience in 
this matter, even if their own consciences would have allowed 
them to sign such a bond. Neither Bishop nor Chancellor, to 
a certainty, ever saw or heard of a pledge for Bunyan's con- 
formity. Dr. Southey is wrong, however, in saying that the 
bond proposed to him when he was first arrested, would have 
been " less objectionable " to him than the fraudulent one in 
question. He would have spurned both alike, because both 
forbade his preaching. 

By whatever means he came forth, therefore, he came forth 
in the character he went into the jail—as a ^^reac^er of the 
everlasting Gospel. His Church also held a day of thanks- 
giving about this time, « for present hberty," and soon built a 
Chapel for him ; plain proofs that he was under no bond, who- 
ever released him. The record in the Church Book is, « Au- 
gust, 1672, the ground on which the Meeting House stands 
was bought by subscription."— /mwzey. I have seen the ori- 
ginal agreement for this ground. It is between J. Ruff head, 
shoemaker, and John Bunyan, hrazier, both of Bedford, for 
£50 lawful money. 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 427 



CHAPTER XLII. 

bunyan's calumniators. 

1678. 

It is not generally known, that an attempt was made to 
implicate Bunyan in a charge of murder and seduction. He 
himself, very properly, does not mention it, because the Coro- 
ner fully acquitted the accused party ; for it is not in reference 
to her, tl\at he made the solemn protestations of purity, which 
are so well known by all who have read his " Grace Abound- 
ing." That work was written in prison : whereas the case 
of Agnes Beaumont occurred some years after his release. 
Unfortunately, her own Narrative of the horrible conspiracy 
bears no date. It appears, however, from the Tablet erected 
to her memory in the Baptist Chapel at Hitchin, that she be- 
came a member of Bunyan's Church in 1672, and that she 
died in 1720, aged 68 years. She herself mentions the name 
of the Minister of Hitchin, Mr. Wilson, in her Narrative ;. 
and Ivimey gives 1677, as the date of his settlement there. 
The Editor also of her history says, that Mr. Wilson became 
the first pastor of Hitchin, in that year. I have, therefore, 
ventured to assign the event to the next year. On this sup- 
position, Agnes Beaumont would be about 25 years of age, 
when she was charged with murdering her father, at the in- 
stigation of Bunyan. He, it was said, furnished her with 
poison to make away with the old man, in order to obtain the 
property with her. 

It is painful to relate,, that this fama clamosa arose out of a 
slander, set on foot by a Clergyman, who resided in Bedford ; 
— Lane of Edworth, who knew both parties well ! It was, 
however, a Lawyer who added the charge of murder to the 
clerical calumny ; and he did it from revenge. He had 
marked her out, three years before, for his wife, and then per- 
suaded her father to leave the bulk of his property to her, 



428 LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 

and to cut off her sister with a shiUing. Her piety, however, 
defeated Farry''s purpose. She could not bear him, because 
he was ungodly ; and he avenged himself, because he was 
disappointed. 

But this extraordinary affair will be best told by herself. 
Her own Manuscript was transcribed by the Rev. William 
Coles of Ampthill, and given to his daughter, the wife of the 
venerable Andrew Fuller. It was first published by the Rev. 
Samuel James, A.M., of Hitchin, in 1760, somewhat abridged ; 
and in 1824, it was republished by his son, with additions. 
Mr. Fuller said to him when enlarging it from the copy of the 
original, " I think your father abridged too much, and I fear 
the son will abridge too little." Mr. Isaac James, of Bristol, 
judged better when he said, " I hope the reader will not be of 
the same opinion." I, for one, am not ; and, therefore,^ I 
have given the substance of the Narrative, so far as it bears 
upon the character of Bunyan : not, however, without first 
ascertaining in Bristol, that this would not be deemed a tres- 
pass upon the literary property of the family. 

Agnes Beaumont having become a member of Bunyan's 
Church at Bedford, had thus a right to communicate in all 
the places where he administered the Sacrament. Gamlingay 
was one of his stations ; and by accompanying him there, 
against his will, she involved herself in unspeakable trouble, 
and Bunyan in calumny, for a time. 

" There was a Church-Meeting at Gamlingay," she says, 
" and about a week before it, I was much in prayer, especially 
for two things : the one, that the Lord would incline the 
heart of my father to let me go, which he sometimes refused ; 
and, in those days, it was like death to me to be kept from 
such a meeting. I have found by experience, that to pray 
hard was the most successful method of obtaining my father's 
consent ; for when I have not thus prayed, I have found it 
very difficult to prevail. The other request was, that the 
Lord would go with me, and that I might enjoy his presence 
there, at his table, that, as in many times past, it might be a 
sealing ordinance to my soul, and that I might have such a 
sight of a bleeding and dying Saviour, as might melt my 
heart, and enlarge it in love to his name. 

" The Lord was pleased to grant me my requests. Upon 
asking my father, the day before, he seemed unwilling at first, 
but pleading with him and telling him that I would do all my 
work in the morning before I went out, and return home at 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 429 

night, I gained his consent. Friday being come, I prepared 
every thing ready to set out. My father inquired who carried 
me ? I told him I thought Mr. Wilson of Hitchin, as he told 
my brother, the Tuesday before, he should call ; to which he 
said nothing. I went to my brother's and waited, expecting 
to meet Mr. Wilson ; but he not coming, it cut me to the 
heart, and fearing I should not go, I burst into tears, for my 
brother had told me that his horses were all at work, and that 
he could not spare one more than what he and my sister were 
to ride on, and it being the depth of winter I could not walk 
thither. 

"Now I was afraid that all my prayers on this account were 
lost ; my way seemed to be hedged up with thorns. I waited 
with many a longing look, and with a sorrowful heart, under 
my sad disappointment. O, thought I, that the Lord would 
but put it into the heart of some person to come this way. 
Thus I still waited, but with my heart full of fears. At last, 
quite unexpected, came Mr. Bunyan. The sight of him 
caused a mixture both of joy and of grief. I was glad to see 
him, but afraid he would not be willing to take me up behind 
him, and how to ask him I knew not. At length I desired my 
brother to do it, which he did. But Mr. Bunyan answered, 
with some degree of roughness, ' No ; I will not carry her.* 
These words were cutting indeed, and made me weep bitterly. 

My brother perceiving my trouble, said. Sir, if you do not 
carry her, you will break her heart : but he made the same 
reply, adding, '^Your father would be grievous angry if I 
should.' (A certain person in the neighbourhood, one Mr. 
Farry, who is often referred to afterwards in this relation, had 
slandered Mr. Bunyan, and set her father against him, en- 
deavouring to make his vile calumnies pass for truth.) I 
will venture that, said I. And thus, with much entreaty, 
he was prevailed on ; and O how glad was I to think I was 
going. 

" Soon after we set out, my father came to my brother's, 
and asked his men who his daughter rode behind ? They said 
Mr. Bunyan. Upon hearing this his anger was greatly in- 
flamed ; he ran down the close, thinking to overtake me and 
pull me ofl* the horse, but we were gone out of his reach. 

" I had not rode far before my heart began to be lifted up 
with pride at the thoughts of riding behind this servant of the 
Lord, and was pleased if any looked after us as we rode 
along. Indeed I thought myself very happy that day : first, 



430 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

that it pleased God to make way for my going ; and then, 
that I should have the honour to ride behind Mr. Bunyan, 
who would sometimes be speaking to me about the things of 
God. My pride soon had a fall, for in entering Gamlingay, 
we were met by one Mr. Lane, a clergyman, who lived at 
Bedford, and knew us both, and spoke to us, but looked very 
hard at us as we rode along ; and soon after, raised a vile 
scandal upon us, though, blessed be God, it was false. (This 
clergyman usually preached at Edworth, the place where he 
dwelt.) 

" The meeting began not long after we got thither ; and 
the Lord made it a sweet season to my soul indeed. O it 
was a feast of fat things ! I sat under his shadow with great 
delight ! When at the Lord's table, I found such a return of 
praj'^er, that I was scarcely able to bear up under it. I wasj 
as it were, carried up to heaven, and had such a sight of the 
Saviour, as even broke my heart in pieces. O ! how I then 
longed to be with Christ ! How willingly would I have died 
in the place, and gone immediately to glory ! A sense of my 
sins, and of his dying love, made me love him, and long to be 
with him. I have often thought of his goodness in his re- 
markable visit to my soul that day : but he knew the tempta- 
tions that I was to meet with the very same night and a few 
days after. I have seen the bowels of his compassion towards 
me, in these manifestations of his love, before I was tried. 
This was infinite condescension indeed. 

" The meeting being ended, I began to think how I should 
get home, for Mr. Bunyan was not to go by Edworth, and 
having promised to return that night, I was filled with many 
fears lest I should break my word. I inquired of several 
persons if they went my way ; but no one could assist me 
except a young woman who lived about half a mile on this 
side my father's house. As the road was very dirty and deep, 
it being the depth of winter, I was afraid to venture behind 
her ; but at last I did, and she set me down at sister Pruden's 
gate, from whence I hastened through the dirt, having no 
pattens, hoping to be at home before my father was in bed ; 
but, on coming to the door, I found it locked, with the key in 
it, and seeing no light, my heart began to sink, for I perceived 
what T was like to meet with. At other times my father 
would take the key with him, and give it me from the window. 

However I called to him, and he answered, ' Who is there T* 
To which I said, * It is I, father, come home wet and dirtyj 



LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 431 

•pray let me in.' He replied, * Where you have been all day, 
you may go at night ; and with many such sayings he dis- 
covered great anger, because of my riding behind Mr. Bunyan, 
declaring that I should never come within his doors any 
more, unless I would promise never to go after that man 
again. I stood at the chamber window pleading to be let in. 
I begged, I cried, but all in vain, for instead of yielding to my 
importunity, he bid me begone from the window, or else he 
would rise and put me out of the yard. I then stood silent 
awhile, and that thought pierced my mind, how if I should 
come at last when the door is shut, and Christ should say 
unto me, ' Depart !' Matt. xxv. 10 — 12. 

" At length, seeing my father refused to let me in, it was put 
into my heart to spend that night in prayer, I could indeed 
have gone to my brother's, who lived about a quarter of a mile 
off, and where I might have had a good supper and a warm 
bed. No, thought I, into the barn I will go, and cry to heaven, 
that Jesus Christ would not shut me out at the last day, and 
that I may have some fresh discoveries of his love to my soul. 
I did so, and though naturally of a timorous temper, and many 
frightful things presented themselves to my mind, as that I 
might be murdered before morning, or catch my death with 
cold ; yet one scripture after another gave me encourage- 
ment. Such as Matt. vi. 6. ' Pray to thy Father which is 
in secret, and thy Father which seeth in secret shall reward 
thee openly.' Also Jer. xxxiii. 3. * Call upon me and I will 
answer thee, and show thee great and mighty things which 
thou knowest not.' And with many such good words was 1 
comforted. 

" Being thus in the barn, and a very dark night, I was again 
assaulted by Satan ; but having received strength from the 
Lord and his word, I spake out (as I remember), saying, 
' Satan, my Father hath thee in a chain ,• thou canst not hurt 
me.' I then returned to the throne of grace ; and indeed it 
was a blessed night to my soul, a night to be remembered to the 
end of my life, and I hope I never shall forget it ; it was surely 
a night of prayer, yea, and of praise too, when the Lord was 
pleased to keep all fears from my heart. Surely he was with 
me in a wonderful manner ! O the heart-ravishing visits he 
gave me ! and that spirit of faith in prayer which he poured 
out upon me ! It froze very hard that night, but I felt no cold, 
although the dirt was frozen on my shoes in the morning. 

•« Whilst thus most delightfully engaged, that scripture came 



432 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

with mighty power on my mind, 1 Pet. iv. 12. ' Beloved, think 
it not strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you.' 
This word, Beloved, made such melody in my heart as is not 
to be expressed, but the rest of those words concerning the 
fiery trial occasioned some dread ; yet still that first word, Be- 
loved, sounded louder than all the rest, and was much in my 
mind the whole night afterward. I saw that I was to meet 
with both bitter and sweet, when I directed my cries to the 
Lord, to stand by and strengthen me, which he graciously did, 
with many a blessed promise, before the morning light ; and 
to be the ' Beloved of God ' was my mercy, whatever difficul- 
ties I endured ; nevertheless, I began once to be a little deject- 
ed, being grieved to think that I should lose my father's love ; 
but this led me to the Lord, to beg that I might not lose his 
love too, and that good word was immediately given me, John 
xvi. 27, *The father himself loveth you.' O blessed be God, 
thought I, then it is enough, do with me what seemeth thee 
good ! 

" When the morning appeared, I peeped through the cracks 
of the barn, to watch my father's opening the door. Presently, 
he came out and locked it after him, which I thought looked 
very dark, apprehending from hence, he was resolved I should 
not go in, but still that word. Beloved, &c., sounded in my 
heart. He soon came into the barn with a fork in his hand, 
and seeing me in my riding-dress, made a stand, when I thus 
addressed him : * Good morrow, father ; I have had a cold 
night's lodging here, but God has been good to me, else I 
should have had a worse.' He said it was no matter. I pray- 
ed him to let me go in, saying, *I hope father, j^ou are not 
angry with me,' and kept following him about the yard as he 
went to fodder the cows ; notwithstanding this he would not 
regard me, but the more I entreated him the more his anger 
rose against me, declaring that I should never enter his house 
again, unless I would promise not to go to a meeting again as 
long as he lived. I replied, ' Father, my soul is of too much 
worth to do this : Can you in my stead answer for me at 
the great day ? if so, I will obey you in this demand as I do in 
all other things ;' yet I could not prevail. 

" At last, some of my brother's men came into the yard, and 
seeing my case, at their return, reported, that their old master 
had shut Agnes out of doors. Upon hearing this my brother 
was greatly concerned, and came to my father, and endea* 
voured to prevail with him to be reconciled : but he grew more 



LIFE OP BUNYAN. 433 

angry with him than with me, and at last would not hear him ; 
on which my brother said, ♦ Go home with me, sister, you will 
catch your death with cold.' But I refused, still hoping to be 
more successful in a farther application ; I therefore continued 
following my father about the yard, taking hold of his arm, 
and crying and hanging about him, saying, ' Pray let me go 
in,' (fee. I have since wondered how I durst be so bold, my 
father being of a hasty temper, insomuch that his anger has 
often made me glad to get out of his sight, though, when his 
passion was over, few exceeded him in good nature, 

" Seeing I could not prevail, I went and sat down at the 
door, and at length began to be faint and cold, it being a very 
sharp morning. I was also grieved for being the occasion of 
keeping my father in the cold so long, for he kept walking 
about the yard, and I saw he would not go into the house while 
I was there. I therefore went to my brother's, and obtained 
some refreshment and warmth ; then I retired and poured out 
my soul to God, who was pleased to continue on me a spirit of 
grace and of supplication, and forsook me not in this day of 
great trouble. 

" About noon, it being Saturday, I asked my sister to go 
with me to my father's, which she readily did, and finding him 
in the house and the door locked, we went to the window. My 
sister said, * Now, father, I hope your anger is over, and you 
will let my sister in,' entreating him to be reconciled, while I 
burst out with many tears to see him so angry. I do not think 
fit to mention all he said, but among other things he protested, 
that he would not give me one penny so long as he lived, no 
nor when he died neither, but that he would sooner leave his 
substance to a stranger than to me, &;c. These expressions 
were cutting, and made my heart sink ; thought I, what will 
become of me ! To go to service and work hard is a new 
thing to me who am very young ; what shall I do ? yet still I 
thought I had a good God to go to, and that was then a very 
seasonable word. Psalm xxvii. 10. ' When my father and 
mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up.' 

" Perceiving my sister's strong pleadings were vain, I de- 
sired my father to give me my Bible and pattens, if he would 
not please to let me in ; which he also refused, saying, ' That 
he was resolved I should not have a penny, nor a penny's 
worth, as long as he lived, nor at his death.' On this, I went 
home with my sister, bitterly weeping, and withdrew into her 
chamber, where the Lord gave hopes of a better inheritance 

37 



434 LlFfi OF B U N Y A N , 

O now I was willing to go to service, and to be stript of all 
for Christ ! I saw that I had a better portion than that of 
silver or gold, and was enabled to believe I should never want. 

" My inclination towards night was to go to my father once 
more ; and since he was so very angry both with my brother 
and sister, I concluded to go alone. Upon coming to the door I 
found it partly open, and the key being on the outside, and my 
father within, I pushed the door gently, and was about to enter, 
which he perceiving, ran hastily to shut it, and had I not 
hastily withdrew, one of my legs had been between the door 
and the threshold. I would not be so uncivil to my father as 
to lock him into his own house ; however, having this oppor- 
tunity I took the key, intending when he was gone out to ven- 
ture in and lie at his mercy. After a while he came and 
looked behind the house, and seeing me standing in a narrow 
passage between the house and the pond, where I stood close 
up by the wall, he took me by the arm, saying, * Hussey ! 
give me the key quickly, or else I will throw you into the 
pond.' I immediately resigned it with silence and sadness. 

" It appeared in vain to contend ; I went down the closes to 
a wood side, with sighs and groans, and a heart full of sorrow, 
when this scripture came again into my mind, Jer. xxxiii. 3, 
" Call upon me, and I will answer thee, and show thee great and 
mighty things which thou knowest not.' The night was dark, 
but Ii^kept on to the wood, where I poured out my soul to God 
with many tears. And that word also greatly comforted me. 
Psalm xxxiv. 15, ' The eyes of the Lord are upon the righteous, 
and his ears are open to their cry.' I believed his ears are open 
to a poor disconsolate creature, such as myself, and that his 
heart was towards me. And that was a wonderfal word at 
this time, Isa. Ixiii. 2, ' In all their afflictions he was afflicted.' 

" I staid in this place so long that it gave great concern to 
my brother and sister, who had sent one of their men to know 
whether my father had let me in ; and understanding he had 
not, they went about seeking me, but they could not find me.' 
At length, having spread my case before the Lord, I returned 
to my brother's, fully determined not to yield to my father's re- 
quest, if I begged my bread about the streets. I was so 
strongly fixed in the resolution, that I thought nothing could 
move me ; yet, alas! like Peter, I was a poor weak creature, 
as will presently be seen. 

" This was Saturday night. The next morning I said to 
my brother, let us call on my father as we go to the meeting ; 



I 



LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 435 

but upon his telling me this would but further provoke him, we 
forbore. As we went along he said, * Sister, you are now 
brought upon the stage to act for Christ, I pray God help you to 
bear your testimony for him ; I would by no means have you 
consent to my father's terms.' — ' No, brother,' I replied, < I 
would sooner beg my bread from door to door.' While I sat 
at meeting, my mind was hurried, as no wonder, considering 
my case ; but service being ended, I again made the proposal 
to call on my father in our way home. We did so, and found 
him in the yard. Before we came quite to him, my brother 
repeated his admonition to me, though I thought I stood in 
no need of his counsel on this particular. He talked very 
mildly to my father, pleading with him to be reconciled ; but 
perceiving he still retained his anger, I whispered and desired 
my brother to go home. No, said he, not without you. I 
said, I will come presently ; on which he went, though (as he 
told me afterwards) with many fears lest I should comply, but 
I then thought I could as soon part with my life. 

" My brother being gone, I stood pleading with my father, 
and said, ' Father, I will serve you in any thing that lies in my 
power, I only desire liberty to hear God's word on his own 
day ; grant me this and I ask no more. Father,' continued 
I, ' you cannot answer for my sins, or stand in my stead be- 
fore God, I must look to the salvation of my own soul, or I am 
undone for ever.' He replied, ' If I would promise never to 
go to a meeting as long as he lived, I should then go into the 
house, and he would provide for me as his own child, if not, 
I should never have one farthing from him.' ' Father,' said I, 
* my soul is of more worth than so ; I dare not make you such 
a promise.' Upon this his anger was greatly enkindled, and 
he bid me begone, for he was resolved what to do ; therefore 
promise me that you will never go to the meeting again, and 
I will give you the key, repeating these words several times, 
holding it out to me, and urging me to promise, and I as often 
refusing, till at last his wrath increased. ' What do you say ? 
if you now refuse to comply, you shall never be offered it 
more, and I am determined you shall never come within my 
doors again as long as you live.' While I thus stood crying 
in the yard, he repeated the same expressions : ' What do you 
say, hussey ? will you promise, or not ?' Being thus urged, at 
last I answered, < Well, father, I will promise you I will never 
go to a meeting again as long as you live, without your cod- 



436 LIF.E OF BUNYAN. 

sent.* Hereupon he gave me the key, and I went into the 
house. 

" But, O ! soon after I had entered the door, that awful 
scripture was brought to my mind, Matt. x. 33, " Whosoever 
shall deny me before men, him will I also deny before my 
Father which is in heaven.' Also verse 37, ' He that loveth 
father or mother more than me, is not worthy of me.' O ! 
thought I, what will become of me ! what have I done this 
night! I was so filled with terror, that I was going to run 
out of the house again, but I thought this would not alter what 
I had done. Now alas ! all my comforts were gone, and, in 
their room, nothing but grief, and rendings of conscience ! 
In this instance I saw what all my resolutions were come to, 
even nothing. This was Lord's day night, and a black night 
it was to me. 

" In a little time my father came in and behaved with affec- 
tion ; he bid me get him some supper, which I did. He also 
told me to come and eat with him, but it was a bitter supper 
to me. My brother's heart ached when he saw I did not fol- 
low him, fearing I should promise, and not coming to his 
house, was ready to conclude I had done so. To be satisfied, 
he sent one of his men on some errand ; who returned, saying, 
I was in the house with his old master, who was very cheerful 
with me. On this he was convinced I had yielded. But no 
tongue can express what a doleful condition I was in. I hardly 
durst look up to God for mercy. Now, I thought, I must hear 
the word no more. 

" On Monday morning came my brother, and his first salu- 
tation was, O sister, what have you done ? What do you 
say to this, ' He that denies me before men, him will I also 
deny before my Father V This cut me to the heart, but I said 
little : and my father coming in, he went away. This day I 
went into every corner of the house and yard, crying as if my 
heart would break ; and though several promises came into 
my mind, I durst not take courage from any. Now I thought 
I must hear the word no more. What good would it do me if 
my father could give me his house full of silver and gold ? 
Thus I went about reflecting on my condition, and sorrowing, 
till almost spent with grief. When my father came in, I 
withdrew into the barn to pray, and give vent to my sorrow ; 
when, as I stood sighing, leaning my head against something, 
and crying out. Lord, what shall I do ? those words surprised 
me, 1 Cor. y. 13^ * There shall be a way to escape, that you 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 437 

may be able to bear it.' Lord ! thought I, what way wilt 
thou make for my escape ? wilt thou make my father willing 
to let me go to thine ordinances ? if thou dost, still, what a 
wretch was 1 thus to deny Christ ! O now I cried earnestly, 
Lord, pardon and pity me ! In the evening, as we were sitting 
by the fire, my father asked me what was the matter ? I burst 
into tears, saying, O father ! I am distressed at the thoughts 
of my promise, not to go to a meeting again without your con- 
sent, and fear you will not be willing. He was so moved that 
he wept like a child, bidding me not let that trouble me, for 
we should not disagree ; at which I was a little comforted, and 
said. Pray father, forgive me wherein I have been undutiful to 
you. He then told me with tears, how mucli he was troubled 
for me that night he shut me out of doors, insomuch that he 
could not sleep ; adding, it was my riding behind John Bun. 
yan that made him so angry. (Some evil-minded men of the 
town (as hinted before) especially Mr. Farry, had set her 
father against Mr. Banyan ; for in time past he had heard 
him preach, and had been much melted under the word ; he 
would pray, and frequently go to the meeting. Yea, and 
when his daughter was first under spiritual concern, he had 
very great awakenings himself, and would say to some of the 
neighbours, My daughter can scarce eat, drink, or sleep ; and 
I have lived these threescore years, and have scarce ever 
thought of my soul, &;c. He would then hear the word with 
many tears, and pray in secret, but Mr. Farry would again 
persuade him against the Dissenters, representing them as 
hypocrites, &c.) 

" The greatest part of the next day, being Tuesday, I spent 
in prayer and weeping, with bitter lamentations, humbling 
myself before the Lord for what I had done, and begging 1 
might be kept by his grace and Spirit from denying him and 
his ways for the future. Before night he brought me out of 
this horrible pit, and set my feet upon a rock, enabling me to 
believe the forgiveness of all my sins, by sealing many pre- 
cious promises home on my soul. I could now look back 
with comfort on the night I spent in the barn ; the sweet re- 
lish of that blessed word. Beloved, returned, and 1 believed 
Jesus Christ was the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever ; 
and that scripture was much in mind, Job. v. 19, ' He shall 
deliver thee in six troubles ; yea in seven there shall no evil 
touch thee.' Also Deut. xxxiii. 27, ' The eternal God is thy 
refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms,' 

^7* 



438 LIFEOFBITNYAN. 

" My father was as well as usual this day, and eat his din- 
ner as heartily as ever I knew him : he would sometimes sit 
up by candle-light, while I was spinning, but he now observed 
it was a very cold night, and he would go to bed early : after 
supper he smoked a pipe, and went to bed seemingly in perfect 
health. But while I was by his bed side, laying his clothes 
on him, those words ran through my mind, The end is come, 
the end is come ; the time draweth near. But I could not tell 
what to make of them. 

"As soon therefore as I quitted the room, I went to the 
throne of grace, where my heart was wonderfully drawn forth, 
especially that the Lord would show mercy to my father, and 
save his soul, for which I was so importunate, that I could not 
tell how to leave pleading : and still that word continued on 
my mind, ' The end is come,' Another thing I entreated of 
the Lord was, that he would stand by me, and be with me in 
whatever trouble I had to meet with, little thinking what was 
coming upon me that night and the week following. 

"After this I went to bed, thinking on the freedom which 
God had given me in prayer ; but had not slept long before I 
heard a doleful noise, which at first I apprehended had been 
in the the yard, but soon perceived it to be my father. Being 
within hearing, I called to him, saying. Father, are you not 
well ? he said, ' No, I was struck with a pain in my heart in 
my sleep, and I shall die presently.' I immediately arose, put 
on a few clothes, ran and lighted a candle ; and coming to 
him, found him sitting upright in his bed, crying to the Lord 
for mercy, saying, ' Lord have mercy on me, for I am a poor 
miserable sinner ! Lord Jesus, wash me in thy precious 
blood,' &c. I stood trembling to hear him in such distress, 
and to see him look so pale. I then kneeled down by the bed- 
side, and, which I had never done before, prayed with him, in 
which he seemed to join very earnestly. 

" This done, I said. Father, I will go and call somebody, for 
I dare not stay with you alone. He replied, * You shall not 
go out at this time of night, do not be afraid,' still crying loud 
for mercy. Soon after he said he would rise and put on his 
clothes himself. I ran and made a good fire, and got him 
something hot, hoping that it might relieve him. ' O,' said 
he, 'I want mercy for my soul! Lord, show mercy to me, for I 
am a great sinner ! if thou dost not show me mercy, I am un- 
done for ever !' Father, said I, there is mercy in Jesus Christ 
for sinners, the Lord help you to lay hold on it ! 'O,' replied 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 439 

he, *I have been against you for seeking after Jesus Christ ; 
Lord, forgive me, and lay not this sin to my charge !' 

"I desired him to drink something warm which I had for 
him ; but his trying to drink brought on a violent retching, 
and he changed black in the face. I stood by holding his 
head, and he leaned upon me with all his weight. Dreadful 
time indeed ! if I left him I was afraid he would fall into the 
fire ; and if I stood by him he would die in my arms, and no 
one person near us. I cried out, What shall I do ! Lord 
help me ! Then came that scripture, Isa. xli, 10, 'Fear thou 
not, for I am with thee ; be not dismayed, I am thy God : I 
will help thee, yea, I will uphold thee,' &c. 

"By this time my father revived again out of his fit of 
fainting, for I think he did not quite swoon away ; he repeated 
his cries as before, ' Lord, have mercy upon me, for I am a 
sinful man ! Lord, spare me one week more! one day more!' 
Piercing words to me ! After he had sat awhile, he felt an 
uneasiness in his bowels, and called for a candle to go into the 
other room. I saw him stagger as he went over the thresh- 
old ; and making a better fire, soon followed him, and found 
him on the floor, which occasioned me to scream out, < Father, 
father !' putting my hands under his arms, lifting with all my 
might, first by one arm, then by another, crying and striving 
till my strength was quite spent. 

" I continued lifting till I could perceive no life in him, and 
then ran crying about the house, and unlocked the door to go 
and call my brother. It being the dead of the night, and no 
house near, I thought there might be rogues at the door, who 
would murder me. At last I opened the door and rushed out. 
It had snowed in abundance, and lay very deep. Having no 
stockings on, the snow got in my shoes, so that I made little 
progress, and at the stile in my father's yard, stood calling to 
my brother, not considering it was impossible for any one to 
hear. I then got over, and the snow water caused my shoes 
to come off*, and running barefoot to the middle of the close, I 
suddenly imagined rogues were behind me, going to kill me. 
Looking back in terror, these words came into my mind, 
' The angel of the Lord encompasseth round about those who 
fear him ;' which somewhat relieved me. 

" Coming to my brother's, I stood crying dismally under 
the window, to the terror of the whole family, who were in 
their midnight sleep. M}*^ brother started from bed, and called 
from the window, Who are you? What's the matter? — O 



440 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

brother, said I, my father is dead : come away quickly. O 
wife, said he, it is my poor sister : my father is dead ! My 
brother ran immediately with two of his men, and found our 
father risen from the ground, and laid upon the bed. My 
brother spoke to him, but he could not answer, except one 
word or two. On my return, they desired me not to go into 
the room, saying he was just departing. O dismal night ! 
had not the Lord wonderfully supported me, I must have died 
too, of the fears and frights which I met with. 

" My brother's man soon came out, and said he was de- 
parted. Melancholy tidings ! but in the midst of my trouble 
1 had a secret hope that he was gone to heaven ; nevertheless, 
I sat crying bitterly, to think what a sudden and surprising 
change death had made on my father, who went to bed well, 
and was in eternity by midnight ! I said in my heart. Lord, 
give me one seal more that I shall go to heaven when death 
should make this change on me. Then that word came di- 
rectly, Isa. XXXV, 10, ' The ransomed of the Lord shall return 
and come to Zion with songs and everlasting joy upon their 
heads,' &c. O, I longed to be gone to heaven ! thought I, 
they are singing whilst I am sorrowing ! O that I had the 
wings of a dove, then would I fly away and be at rest ! 

" Quickly after my brother called in some neighbours, 
among whom came Mr. Farry, my bitter enemy, with his son, 
who inquired if my father was dead. Somebody replied. Yes 
he is ; he then said, It is no more than what I looked for ; 
though no notice was taken of these words till afterwards. 
Then some women came in, and seeing me sitting without 
stockings, and scarcely any clothes on, bewailed my sorrowful 
condition. This was Tuesday after the Friday night that I 
lay in the barn, when that scripture was so frequently in 
my mind, * Beloved, think it not strange concerning the fiery 
trial which is to try you.' I thought now I had met with 
fiery trials indeed, not knowing that I had as bad or worse to 
come, which I shall now proceed to relate. 

" This very Tuesday on which my father died, Mr. Lane, 
who had met Mr. Bunyan and me at Gam'gay town's end, 
reported at Baldock fair, that we had been criminally con- 
versant together ; which vile report presently ran from one 
end of the fair to the other, and I heard of it the next day ; 
but that scripture came wiih much sweetness and bore me up, 
Matt. v. 11, * Blessed are ye when men shall revile you, and 
aay all manner of evil against you falsely for my sake.' 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 441 

" We agreed to bury my father on Thursday, and accord- 
ingly invited our relations and friends to the funeral. But on 
the Wednesday night, Mr. Farry sent for my brother, and 
asked him, * Whether he thought my father died a natural 
death V A question which amazed my brother, who readily 
answered, 'Yes, I know he died a natural death.' Mr. Farry 
replied. But I believe he did not, and I have had my horse out 
of the stable twice a day to fetch Mr. Hatfield, of Potten, but 
considered that you are an officer of the parish, therefore leave 
it to you : pray see and do your office. Upon my brother's 
asking him how he thought my father came to his end, if he 
did not die a natural death, he answered, I believe your sister 
has poisoned him. 

*' My brother returned with a heavy heart, not knowing but 
I mihgt lose my life ; so he called my sister up stairs to speak 
with her ; and there happening to be a godly man at sister 
Pruden's, they sent for him, and telling him the whole affair, 
they all three went into an upper room, and spread it before 
the Lord. My brother asked whether they should tell me. 
They said. No, let her have this night in quiet : but they 
themselves spent most part of the night in prayer. 

" Early in the morning, my brother came, and began to 
weep. Sister, said he, pray God help you, for you are like to 
meet with hard things. I said. What, worse than I have met 
with already? Yes, replied he, Mr. Farry says he thinks 
you poisoned my father. Hearing this, my heart sunk 
within me, but I immediately said. Blessed be God for a clear 
conscience ! 

" We deferred the funeral, and sending for Mr. Hatfield, the 
surgeon, told him the case, who examined me how my father 
was before he went to bed, and what supper he eat, &;c. I 
told him all the particulars ; and, when he had surveyed the 
corpse, he went to Mr. Farry, and told him, that he wondered 
how he could entertain such thoughts concerning me, assuring 
him there were no just grounds for his suspicion. Mr. Farry 
replied, he verily believed it was so. Mr. Hatfield, perceiving 
that no arguments would convince him, returned and told us 
we must have a coroner and jury. I readily agreeing to this 
proposal, saying. Sir, as my innocency is known to God, I 
would have it known to men, therefore pray be pleased to open 
my father. This he declined, saying, there was no need for it, 
but promised to meet the coroner and jury the next day. 

<' Now I had new work cut out, therefore went to the Lord 



442 LiPE OF BUNYAN. 

and prayed that he would appear in this fiery trial. I saw my 
life lay at stake, as well as the name of God struck at, but that 
word was sent for my support and comfort, and it was a blessed 
one to my soul, Isa. liv. 17, * No weapon that is formed against 
thee shall prosper, and every tongue that shall rise against 
thee in judgment thou shalt condemn.' Also chap. xlv. 24, 
* All that are incensed against thee shall be ashamed. 'En- 
couraged by these precious promises, we sent for the cor- 
oner on Friday morning. Mr. Farry hearing of it, told my 
brother he would have him meet the coroner at Biggleswade, 
and agree it there ; for, continued he, it will be found petit 
treason, and your sister must be burnt. No, sir, replied my 
brother, we are not afraid to let him come through. Upon 
hearing this, I said, I will have him come through, if it cost 
me all my father has left me. I did not know how far God 
might suffer this man and the devil to go. It also troubled 
me to think that in case I suffered, another, as innocent as 
myself, might suffer too, for Mr. Farry reported that I poison- 
ed my father, and Mr. Bunyan'gave me the stuff to do it with ; 
but the Lord knew our innocency in this affair, both in 
thought, word, and deed. 

" Whilst thus surrounded with straits and troubles, I must 
own that at times I had many carnal reasonings, though I 
knew myself clear. I thought. Should God suffer my enemy 
to prevail to the taking away of my life, how shall I endure 
burning ! O the thoughts of burning were very terrible, and 
made my very heart to ache within me ! But that scripture, 
which I had often thought of before my father's death, came 
now into my mind, Isa. xlii. 2, * When thou passest through 
the fire I will be with thee,' &;c. I said in my heart, Lord, 
thou knowest my innocence, therefore if thou art pleased to 
suffer my enemies to take away my life, yet surely thou 
wilt be with me ; thou hast been with me in all my trials 
hitherto, and I trust wilt not now leave me in the greatest of 
all. At last I was made to believe, that if I did burn at a 
stake, the Lord would give me his presence ; and, in a solemn 
manner, resigned myself to his disposal, either for life or 
death. 

"That forenoon in which the coroner was expected, some 
Christian friends from Gam'gay paid me a visit, and spent sev- 
eral hours in prayer, and pleaded earnestly with the Lord on 
my behalf, that he would graciously appear for me, and glorify 
his name in my deliverance. This done, I retired, and was 



LIFE OP BUN YAN. 443 

much enlarged in begging the divine presence this day, and 
that I might not have so much as a dejected countenance, or 
be in the least daunted before them. I thought to stand before 
a company of men for the murder of my own father, though 
I knew my innocence, would make me sink, unless I had much 
of the Lord's presence to support me. I thought, Should I 
appear dejected or daunted, people would conclude that I am 
guilty, therefore I begged of God that he would carry me above 
the fears of men, devils and death, and give me faith and cour- 
age to lift up my head before my accusers. Immediately that 
scripture darted into my mind, Job xvii. 9, ' The righteous also 
shall hold on his way, and he that hath clean hands shall be 
stronger and stronger.' Then I broke out. Lord thou knowest 
my heart, and my hands are clear in this matter. This was 
such a suitable word that I could hardly have had such another, 
and the Lord made every tittle of it good before the sun went 
down, so that I was helped to look mine enemy in the face 
with boldness. 

" Presently word was brought that the coroner and jury 
were at my brothers ; and when they had put up their horses 
they came to view the corpse. I sat with some neighbours by 
the fire, as they passed through the house into the room where 
my father lay ; some of the jurymen came, and, taking me by 
the hand, with tears running down their cheeks, said, 'Pray 
God be thy comfort ; thou art as innocent as I am, I believe.' 
Thus one and another spake to me, which I looked upon as a 
wonderful mercy to find they believed me not guilty. 

" When the coroner had viewed the corpse, he came to warm 
himself by the fire where I sat, and looking steadfastly at me 
he said, < Are you the daughter of the deceased V I answered, 
Yes. He replied, ' iVre you the person who was in the house 
alone with him when he was struck with death V ' Yes, sir, I 
am she.' He then shook his head ; at which I feared his 
thoughts were evil toward me. 

" The jury also having taken their view, they went to dine 
at my brother's : after which they proceeded to business and 
sent for me. As I was going, my heart went out much to the 
Lord that he would stand by me. Then came these words, 
Isa. liv. 4, ' Fear not, for thou shalt not be ashamed.' And 
before I came to my brother's house, my soul was made like 
the chariots of Aminadab, being wonderfully supported, even 
above what I could ask or think. 

"When I got there, my brother sent for Mr. Farry, who not 



444 LIPEOPBUNYAN. 

coming soon, he sent again ; at last he came. Then the coro- 
ner called the witnesses, being my brother's men, who were 
sworn ; he asked them whether they were present when my 
father died ? what words they heard him speak ? &.c. And 
when they had answered, he called Mr. Farry, and gave him 
his oath. * Come,' said he, * as you are the occasion of our 
coming together, we would know what you have to say about 
this maid's murdering her father, and on what grounds you 
accuse her 1 ' Mr. Farry, but in a confused manner, told the 
coroner of the late difference between my father and me, how 
I was shut out of doors, and that my father died but two nights 
after I was admitted. Nobody knew what to make of this 
strange preamble ; but I stood in the parlour amongst them, 
with my heart as full of comfort as it could hold, being got 
above the fear of men or devils. 

The coroner said, * This is nothing to the matter in hand ; 
what have you to accuse this young woman with ? To which 
Mr. Farry replied little or nothing to the purpose ; and at the 
same time returning cross answers, the coroner was very an- 
gry, and bid him stand by. Then I was called. * Come, 
sweetheart,' said the coroner, ' tell us, where was you that night 
your father shut you out V (for the man, who went to Bedford 
for him, had related matters as they rode along.) I answered, 

* Sir, I was in the barn all night.' — ' And was you there alone V 
— 'Yes, sir, I had nobody with me.' He shook his head and 
proceeded : ' Where did you go next morning ? — * Sir, I staid 
in the yard till nine or ten o'clock, entreating my father to let 
me go in, but he would not.' 

" At this he seemed concerned, and asked where I was the 
remaining part of the day ? I said, at my brother's, and lay 
there the following night. ' When did your father let you 
come in V — ' On the Lord's day evening.' — ' Was he well when 
you came in V — * Yes, sir.' — ' How long did he live afterward V 
— ' Till Tuesday night, sir.' — < Was he well that day V — < Yes, 
sir, as well as I ever saw him in my life, and he eat as hearty a 
dinner.' — * In what manner was he taken, and at what time,' — 

* Near midnight, complaining of a pain at his heart. I heard 
him groan, and made all haste to light a candle ; and when I 
came, I found him sitting up in his bed, and crying out of a 
pain in his heart ; and he said he should presently die, which 
frightened me much, so that I could scarce get on my clothes ; 
when I made a fire, and my father rose and sat by it. I got 
him something warm, of which he drank a little, but straining 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 445 

to vomit, he fainted away, while I held his head, and could not 
leave him to call in assistance, fearing lest, in my absence, he 
should fall into the fire.' 

" The coroner further proceeded : ' Was there nobody in 
the house with you V — ' No, sir,' I said, ' I had none with me 
but God. At length my father came a little again to himself, 
and went into the other room, whither I soon followed him, 
and found him fallen along upon the floor ; at which sight I 
screamed out in a most dismal manner, yet I tried to raise hira 
up, but in vain ; till at last, being almost spent, I ran to my 
brother's in a frightful condition.' 

" Having given him this relation, the coroner said, ' Sweet- 
heart, I have no more to say to you ;' and then addressed him- 
self to the jury, whose verdict being given, he turned himself 
to Mr. Farry, and said, ' You, sir, who have defamed this young 
woman in this public manner, endeavouring to take away her 
good name, yea, her life also, if you could, ought to make it 
your business now to establish her reputation. She has met 
with enough in being alone with her father, when seized with 
death ; you had no need to add to her affliction and sorrow ; 
and if you were to give her five hundred pounds, it would not 
make amends.' 

"He then came to me, and taking me by the hand said, 
' Sweetheart, do not be daunted, God will take care of thy 
preferment, and provide thee a husband notwithstanding the 
malice of this man. I confess these are hard things for one 
so young as thou art, to meet with. Blessed be God for this 
deliverance, and never fear but he will take care of thee.' 
Then, addressing myself to the coroner and jury, I said, ' Sirs, 
if you are not all satisfied, I am free my father should be open- 
ed; as my innocence is known to God, I would have it known 
to you also, for I am not afraid of my life.' — ' No,' replied 
the coroner, ' we arc satisfied there is no need of having him 
opened ; but bless God that the malice of this man broke out 
before thy father was buried.' 

'• The room was full of people, and great observation made 
of my looks and behaviour. Some gentlemen who were on 
the jury, as I was afterwards told, said that they should never 
forget with what a cheerful countenance I stood before them. 
I know not how I looked, but this I know, my heart was as full 
of peace and comfort as it could hold. The jurymen were all 
much concerned for me, and were observed to weep when the 
38 



446 LIFE OF BUNYAN, 

coroner examined me. Indeed I have abundant cause to hless 
God that they were deeply convinced of my innocence, and 
I have heard some of them were so affected with my case 
that they would speak of me with tears a twelvemonth 
after. 

« When the coroner and company were gone, we sent 
again to our friends to invite them to the funeral, which was 
on Saturday night. I now thought my trials on this account 
were over, and that Mr. Farry had vented all his malice, but 
was mistaken ; for seeing he could not take away my life, his 
next attempt was to deprive me of that substance my father 
had left me. Accordingly, he sends for my brother-in4aw, as 
he was going from my father's grave, and informed him how 
things were left in the will, telling him that his wife was cut 
off with a shilling, but that he could put him in a way to come 
in for a share. (Mr. Farry was an attorney, and made the 
will about three years before her father's death, at which time 
he put her father forward to give her more than her sister, 
because of a design he then had of marrying her ; but upon 
her going to the meetings and becoming rehgious, he turned 
to be her bitter enemy, was filled with implacable maUce and 
hatred, and did all in his power to prejudice the mind of her 
father against her. She knew not but that the will had been 
altered, but it was not.) 

" This was a new trouble. My brother-in-law (not her own 
brother who attended the meeting, and sympathized with her 
under her sufferings, as before related, but her sister's husband) 
threatened, if I would not resign part of what my Father had 
left, he would begin a suit at law. Mr. Farry prompted him 
on, saying, « Hang her, drown her ; do not let her go away 
with so much more than your wife,' &c. And to law we were 
going, to prevent which, and for the sake of peace, I satisfied 
my brother with a handsome present. 

« About a month after my father was buried, another report 
was spread at Biggleswade, that Agnes Beaumont had now 
confessed she had poisoned her father, and was quite distracted. 
*Is it true?' said some. * Yes, it is true,' said others. I have 
heard the defaming of many ; ' report, say they, and we will 
report it.' Jer. xx. 10. 

" But I was determined, if it pleased God to spare me till 
next market-day, I would go and let them see I was not dis- 
tracted, and accordingly went (though it was frost and snow) 



LIFE OP BUNYAN. 447 

on Wednesday morning ; I called at my sister Eveart's to 
rest, and when the market was at the height, showed myself 
among the people, which put a stop to their business for a 
time ; for their eyes were upon me, and some I saw whispering 
and pointing, and others talking in companies, while I walked 
through and through with this thought. If there were a thou, 
sand more of you, I would lift up my head before you all. 
That day I was well in my soul, and therefore exceeding 
cheerful. Many people came and spake to me saying, * We 
now see that you are not distracted.' 

" Some I saw cry, but some others laughed ; O ! thought I, 
mock on, there is a day coming that will clear up all. That 
was a wonderful scripture, Psalm xxxvii. 6, 'And he shall 
bring forth thy righteousness as the light, and thy judgment 
as the noon day.' 

" After this another report was raised, in a different part 
of the country, that Mr. Bunyan was a widower, and gave me 
counsel to poison my father, that he might marry me ; which 
plot was agreed on, they said, as we went to Gam'gay. But 
this report rather occasioned mirth than mourning, because 
Mr. Bunyan at the same time had a good wife living. 

" Now, thought I, surely Mr. Farry has done with me ; but 
the next summer a fire broke out in the town ; how it came to 
pass no one could tell, but Mr. Farry soon found a person on 
whom to charge it, for he affirmed that it was I who set the 
house on fire ; but, as the Lord knoweth, I knew nothing of 
this fire till the doleful cry reached my ears. This malicious 
slander was not much regarded. 

"Thus I have related both the good and the evil things I 
have met with in past dispensations of Providence, and have 
reason to wish it was as well with my soul now as then. And 
one mercy the Lord added to all the rest, which I cannot but 
mention ; namely, that he kept me from prejudice against Mr. 
Farry, for notwithstanding he had so greatly injured me, I 
was helped to cry to the Lord, and that with many tears, for 
mercy on his soul. I can truly say that I earnestly longed 
after his salvation, and begged of God to forgive him, whatever 
he had said or done to my hurt." 

I cannot add much to this wonderful narrative, although I 
inquired not a little into the facts of it. I found Mrs. Beau- 
mont's name written, Agnis Behementj in Bunyan's Church 
Book ; and pronounced Behment, in the neighbourhood of 



448 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

Gamlingay. There is also a vague tradition in that country, 
that Farry robbed a widow, who first made him refund, and 
then, instead of forgiving him, or praying for him, as Agnes 
Behment did, prosecuted him. Bunyan's memory, and that 
of Agnes, are still fresh and fragrant in Gamlingay, and 
throughout all the neighbourhood. 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 449 



CHAPTER XLIIL 

bunyan's pastorship. 

Although Banyan began to preach in 1656, he was not or- 
dained until 1671. The record in the Church Book, which 
I have examined, runs thus ; — " On the 24th of August, 1671, 
the Church were directed to seek God about the choice of 
Brother Bunyan to the office of Elder or co-pastor : to which 
office he was called on the 24th of the tenth month in the 
same year, when he received of the Elders (the other Pastors) 
the right-hand of fellowship." Thus the Church chose and 
ordained him, whilst he was yet a prisoner. But his impris- 
onment was not strict at the time. His name appears in the 
Minutes of the Church Meetings in 1669, 1670, and 1671. I 
found also three appointments for him in 1668, to visit disor- 
derly members of the Church. This freedom must, I think, 
be ascribed to the Jailor : for, as Ivimey justly observes, " The 
tide in the House of Commons ran strongly on the side of per- 
secution" at the time. The Conventicle Act was revived in 
1669, with new and inhuman clauses, and received the royal 
assent early in 1670. In the face oC this ferocious edict, 
however, the Church at Bedford elected Bunyan! They 
thought, perhaps, that the very ferocity of the Act would 
defeat itself. Or, if they were not thus far-sighted in the 
impolicy of craft and cruelty, they evidently had faith in the 
religious maxim, — "That man's extremity is God's oppor- 
tunity." 

It is a curious fact, that Bunyan followed up his ordination 
by answering Dr. Fowler's work on " The Dssign of Chris- 
tianity." This was a bold stroke, and as speedy as it was 
spirited : for he says to the Doctor, " I could not obtain your 
work till this 13th of the Eleventh month ; which was too 
soon for you, Sir ; " and yet he finished his masterly answer 
on « the 27th of the Twelfth month, 1671." It was published 
in a small quarto, containing 118 pages, by "Smith, at the 
38* 



450 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

Elephant and Castle, near Temple-Bar," and is dated " from 
Prison." It is, although not "one of his hest pieces," as 
Ivimey says, yet a very remarkable treatise on Justification 
by faith : and must have completed the confidence of the 
Church in their choice of Bunyan to the pastorate. They 
had long known him as a good Minister of Jesus Christ, and 
it proved him to be an able Minister of the New Testament. 
Fowler also found him so ; and in his rage under the lash, got 
up 78 pages of unparalleled Billingsgate, in an answer entitled 
" Dirt Wip't off, or a manifest discovery of the gross ignorance, 
erroneousness, and most unchristian and wicked spirit of John 
Bunyan, Lay Preacher in Bedford ; which he hath shown in 
a vile pamphlet." This tirade was published in 1672, "by 
Royston, bookseller to His most sacred Majesty ; " and with 
the Lambeth imprimatur of Tho : Tomkyns. It does not 
bear Fowler's name ; but pretends to be the work of an 
anonymous friend. And it may have been written by an 
amanuensis : but, throughout, it is evidently the dictate of 
Fowler himself. I am compelled to say this, after many zeal- 
ous efforts to remove the odium of vulgar scurrility from a 
scholar who reached the bench. The only thing creditable 
to him in the affair, is, that he did not wear his mask well 
enough to conceal himself. A worse man would have worn 
it better. 

Those who have the opportunity of reading Bunyan's work 
on Justification, will enjoy it most by viewing it as the breath- 
ings of his spirit, whilst his ordination vows were fresh upon 
his memory and conscience. Perhaps, he intended it to pre- 
pare his church for his stated ministry, quite as much as to 
warn the public against Fowlerisni. That church had passed 
a resolution in 1660, which I have copied from their minutes, 
" That Brother Bunyan diO prepare to speak" before them, and 
" that Brother Whiteman/m7 not to speak to him of it." He 
did not forget this requisition to prepare, when they called him 
to be a pastor, eleven years afterwards. Then he proved to 
them, by his answer to Dr. Fowler, that he was prepared. 

I mention this, to show that such churches did not admit 
preachers indiscriminately, although they often called forth 
uneducated men, of whose talents and piety they had " good 
experience." So far were they from countenancing ignorant 
men, that they subjected their candidates to an ordeal of preach- 
ing or expounding before the church, to which the theological 
examination of a Bishop's Chaplain, apart from the Greek and 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 451 

Hebrew of it, is a gentle probation. I do not mean, of course, 
that they were questioned or tested by a formula ; but that 
they had to approve themselves sound in the faith and mighty 
in the Scriptures, to a prayerful and thoughtful assembly of 
men and women, who made the Bible all in all in religion. 
Neither assent nor consent to a creed satisfied these churches. 
They judged candidates for holy orders, by their gift in prayer, 
and their power in preaching. They expected a confession of 
faith from them at their ordination ; but it rather consisted of 
definitions and reasons, than o^ forms of sound words. Let 
any one who doubts this, read Bunyan's Confession of Faith, 
in the first volume of his Works. There, indeed, it has no 
date ; and thus it is not known as the avowal he made at his 
ordination. It was, however, published in 1672, the year after 
his ordination, and whilst he was yet in prison. I have as- 
certained this from a list of his works, which he himself ena- 
bled his friend, the Rev. Charles Doe, to draw up. I am 
indebted to Mr. Kilpin and his friends, of Bedford, for an ori- 
ginal copy of the Circular, in which Doe published this list. 
It bears date 1691, three years after Bunyan's death. 

This clue to the succession of his works enables me to throw 
some light upon the history of his pastorate, which has hitherto 
been unknown. His Confession of Faith was accompanied 
with what he calls "A Reason of my Practice ; showing that 
I can communicate with those visible saints that differ about 
Water Baptism." This Reason set the champions of strict 
communion in a rage. They had long annoyed him ; but 
now they slandered him. He calls their work " A Book writ- 
ten by the Baptisls, and published by Mr. T. P. (Paul) and 
Mr. W. K. (Kitfin ?)" It appeared just as he was entering 
upon his pastoral duties, and upon his old itineracies, as a 
free man. This was the nick of time they chose for an attack 
upon his '* low descent," and for " stigmatizing " him as " a 
person of that rank which need not to be heeded or attended 
unto." Accordingly, his answer to T. Paul (for he " forgave 
Mr. Kiffin, and loved him never the worse") came out in 1673. 
But, although full of argument and amenity, it was lost upon 
Paul. He rushed to the rescue again, more foul-mouthed than 
ever, and brought with him Danvers and Denn, to fall upon 
Bunyan " with might and main." Not content with impugn- 
ing his morals, they began, he says, " to cry out murder, as if 
I intended nothing less than to accuse them to the magistrate." 
Works, vol. iii. p. 1268. Another of the party, Dan, told 



452 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

Bunyan before Paul's second pamphlet was published, that it 
would provoke him to what he calls, " the beastly work, of re- 
plying to bitter invectives." But it did not. He left the 
party to the corrosion of " the vinegar of their own spirit," 
and published, in 1674, his " Peaceable Principles and True." 
Thus he was occasionally diverted from his favourite itinera- 
cies in the county, and distracted in his ministry at Bedford, 
by the Ishmaels of both the General and Particular Baptist 
Churches. He did not, however, neglect his own church. In 
1675, he published, for the benefit of their " carnal relations," 
as well as for general use, his masterly catechism, entitled 
" Instruction for the Ignorant ;" and about the same time also, 
his elaborate work on eternal redemption by Christ, entitled 
*' Light for them that sit in Darkness." These were followed, 
in 1676, by his " Strait Gate," and " Salvation by Grace." 
This list will convey some idea of his labours as a teacher : 
and what he was as a pastor, who looked well to the state of 
his flock, will be best seen in his treatise on " Christian Beha- 
viour," which was published in 1674 ; and in his work on 
"The Fear of God," in 1679. There is enough in any of 
these pastoral remonstrances to exasperate hypocrites, as well 
as to ripen the imperfect. Accordingly, the practical tone of 
his ministry at this time so exasperated John Wildman, one of 
the members of the church, that he charged Bunyan with in- 
ducing wives to inform against their husbands. This charge 
the church investigated in 1680, and found it such a wanton 
slander on Bunyan and the sisterhood, that they unanimously 
voted Wildman " an abominable liar," and dealt with him ac- 
cordingly. — Church Booh, It is delightful to read the respect- 
ful and affectionate terms in which Bunyan is mentioned in 
the minutes of the church meetings. 

Besides his stated labours in Bedford and its immediate vi- 
cinity, he often visited London, " where his reputation," says 
Dr. Southey, " was so great, that if a day's notice were given, 
the meeting-house at Southwark, at which he generally preach- 
ed, would not contain half the people." " I have seen by my 
computation," says his friend Charles Doe, "about twelve 
hundred persons to hear him at a morning lecture, on a work- 
ing day, in dark winter time. I also computed about three 
thousand th at came to hear him at a town's-end meeting- 
house ; so that half were fain to go back again for want of 
room : and then himself was fain at a back door to be pulled 



LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 453 

almost over people to get up-stairs to tlie pulpit." — Doe's Cir- 
cular. 

The Chapel in Southwark is said to have been in Zoar 
Street ; but it no longer exists as a Chapel. Some years ago, a 
writer in the Monthly Magazine ascribed the origin of the 
building to Bishop Barlow. A most unlikely source ! The 
mistake was accordingly, soon and ably exposed by B. Han- 
bury, Esq. 

Bunyan seems to have preached frequently at Pinner's Hall 
also. His Sermons on " The Greatness of the Soul " were 
delivered there ; and they well account for the electrifying ef- 
fect of his ministry. It is impossible to read them without 
exclaiming, " Hell is open before him, and Destruction without 
a covering |" I know of nothing so awful. He makes the 
reader hear " the sighs of the lost soul." It will be some ex- 
planation of this, to quote a passage from the Work. He 
says, " Once I dreamed that I saw two (persons) whom I knew, 
in hell : and methought I saw a continual dropping from hea- 
ven as of great drops of fre, lighting upon them to their sore 
distress. Oh, words are wanting, — thoughts are wanting, — 
imagination and fancy are poor things here ! Hell is another 
kind of place than any alive can think." Thus he seems to 
have had awful dreams, besides those in early life. These 
Sermons where preached in Pinner's Hall ; and probably the 
very Sermons which led Dr Owen to say to Charles II., when 
the King upbraided him for hearing an " illiterate Tinker 
prate," " Please your Majesty, could I possess that Tinker's 
abilities for preaching, I would most gladly relinquish all my 
learning." Dr. Southey says, "That this opinion would have 
been discreditable to Owen, if he really entertained it, and the 
anecdote were entitled to belief." There is much truth in 
this remark. Owen's learninsr has been of more use to the 
Church than Banyan's genius, so far as her theology is con- 
cerned. And yet, if Owen heard the Sermons at Pinner's 
Hall, which is not unlikely, as they seem to have been 
preached whilst his asthma unfitted him to preach, and thus 
whilst he was preparing to give an account of the souls he had 
won rather than of the books he had written, we can hardly 
wonder at his opinion ; for their power and pathos eclipse all 
learning, and throw every thing into the shade, but the wisdom 
which " winneth souls." 

Bunyan seems to have visited London annually, almost 
from his liberation until his death. The principal part, how- 



464 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

ever, of the time he could spare from Bedford, was devoted io 
" the region round about." Accordingly, not a few of the 
Baptist Churches in the county trace their origin to " Bishop 
Bunyan's itineracies ;" as do some also in the adjoining coun- 
ties of Cambridge, Hertford, Huntingdon, Buckingham, and 
Northampton ; so wide w as his influence, as well as his la- 
bours. His maxim in these tours was, " If I can pluck souls 
from the clutches of the devil, I care not where they go to be 
built up in their holy faith." 

Amongst the first fruits of his labours in a dark wood near 
Hitchin, where he often preached at midnight, were the an- 
cestors of the well known Foster family, to whom the cause of 
Missions owes so much in Cambridge, Biggleswade, Hunting- 
donshire, and Hitchin. Not more, however, than they owe to 
Bunyan ; as they frankly acknowledge. How I envied my 
friend Michael Foster, Esq. of Huntingdon, Surgeon, when he 
said to me, " you may suppose the grateful emotions of my 
soul, when I think that my ancestors saw with their eyes, 
and heard with their ears, the Pilgrim himself; and set out 
with him from the City of Destruction ; and are now with 
him in the Heavenly City." The descendants of many such 
ancestors might have been able to say the same, had they been 
equally careful to ascertain the fact : for " thousands of 
Christians in country and town," says Charles Doe, " can 
testify that their comforts under his ministry have been to an 
admiration, so that their joy showed itself by much weeping. 
His Pilgrim's Progress wins so smoothly upon the affections, 
and so insensibly distils the Gospel into them, that a hundred 
thousand have been printed in England, besides that it hath 
been printed in France, Holland, New England, Welch ; 
whereby the Author hath become famous, and (it) may be the 
cause of spreading his other Gospel-Books over the European 
and American world, and in process of time may be so to the 
whole Universe." — Doe^s Circular. 

Doe's enthusiasTi is delightful. Indeed, but for his zeal to 
preserve the whole of Bunyan's Works, not a few of them 
must have been lost. He calls himself in his Circular as he 
Mell might, " The Struggler for the Preservation of Mr. Bun- 
yan's Labours, in Folio ;" and he did struggle hardy although 
he had only been acquainted with Bunyan about two years. 
He tried to get out a FoUo Edition, even whilst Bunyan was 
alive to correct it : but an " interested Bookseller," he says, 
"opposed it." He was more successful in 1690. He obtained 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 455 

400 Subscribers to the jfirst Volume : but failed, I believe, to 
bring out the second. His mantle and spirit fell, however, 
upon Bun van's successor, Chandler ; and on Wilson of 
Hitchin. If I have caught any portion of the Struggler's 
spirit in preserving Bunyan's Remains, I owe it to the en- 
thusiasm of my venerable friend the Rev. Samuel Hillyard of 
Bedford — now, alas, unable to represent his great predecessor 
in the pulpit, but still glowing with the sacred fire which 
warmed mv heart for this Work twentv-five vears ago. I 
wrote some of the last pages of Bunyan's Life, at Mr. Hill- 
yard's side ; and made him smile, notwithstanding his weak- 
ness, by charging him with introducing Bunyan into every 
speech he had made during this century. Before we parted 
he made me one of the witnesses to his transfer of Bunyan's 
Will into the ancient Book of Bunyan's Church. 

I ascertained at Bedford, during my visit, that Bunyan, al- 
though not arrested again after he entered upon his pastorate, 
was yet often pursued, and had some narrow escapes. One 
tradition is current in Bedford, which I do not like ; but I 
cannot disprove it. It is said, that a constable who was about 
to seize him in Castle-Lane on a dark nisht, desisted on hearing 
him say, — '• The deviVs in the fellow : what docs he want with 
me !" The constable let him go, under the conviction that John 
Bunyan would not have used such profane language. There 
is another version of this story, which is more probable. He 
was once overtaken when disguised as a waggoner, by a con- 
stable, who asked him if he knew that devil of a fellow, Bun- 
yan ? '" Know him !" he replied, " you would be warranted to 
call him a devil, if you knew him as well as I once did." 
Neither of these stories, although both are current, seems cha- 
racteristic. The evasion is not like the man, even if the pro- 
fanity were justifiable. Not, however, that he was very 
squeamish about rough words. There are some strange words, 
in the early editions of the first part of the Pilgrim's Progress. 
He said once to a Cambridge Scholar, who interrupted him 
with some logical subtilties, whilst he was preaching in a 
barn, " Away with your hellish logic, and speak Scripture." 
The Cantab replid, " It is blasphemy to call logic hellish ; for 
it is our reason, and thus the gift of God, which distinguisheth 
man from a beast." Bunyan's answer was like himself; 
" Sin distinguisheth a man from a beast. Is sin, therefore, 
the gift of God V— Doe's Circular. 

But in whatever way Bunyan escaped from his pursuers, 



456 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

during the last years of Charles II., he did escape. Doe 
says, " It pleased the Lord to preserve him out of the hands 
of his enemies, in the severe persecution at the latter end 
of King Charles II. 's reign, though they often searched and 
laid wait for him, and sometimes narrowly missed him." 
Ihid, 

About this time he published " The Life and Death of Mr. 
Badman ;" " A Holy Life, the Beauty of Christianity ;" « The 
Pharisee and Publican ;" with some smaller Treatises. I say, 
published ; because Doe's list is no clue to the date of their 
composition. He, unfortunately, did not inquire of Bunyan 
how many of his Books were written in prison : or if he did 
he paid but little attention to the answer. Hence his ac- 
count is, " W hilst Bunyan was in prison he wrote several of 
his published Books, as by mmiy of their Epistles appears, as, 
" Pray by the Spirit ; Holy City ; Resurrection ; Grace 
Abounding, and others; also the Pilgrim's Progress, as him- 
self and many others have said." — Doe^s Circular. This is 
very unsatisfactory. The Work out of which the Pilgrim 
sprang, whichever it may be, was written in prison. The 
Heavenly Footman is generally (but unwarrantably) supposed 
to be the germ of that Allegory : but that Work was still in 
manuscript when Doe wrote his list. I have had, therefore, to 
judge chiefly by internal evidence, when 1 have assigned 
other Books, or passages of them, to the prison. I may thus 
be occasionally wrong in the case of mere passages : and yet, 
I can hardly be very far wrong ; for the smell of a prison is 
even more distinguishable than " the smell of the lamp." in 
theology. No one, however, will be so much pleased as my- 
self by the detection of any anachronisms, if such there be, in 
this volume. I have had no purpose, which errors can help ; 
and, therefore, have no feelings, which their exposure can hurt. 
Besides, it is worth while to obtain just views of both the pro- 
cess and progress of the development of Bunyan's mind ; for 
as it waxed, but never waned, all its places are improvements, 
and thus lessons which Philosophy should study, and Theology 
commend. 

I cannot conclude my brief account of his Pastorship, better 
than in the words of an old Elegy on his death : 

** He in the Pulpit preached Truth first, and then, 
He in his Practice preached it o'er again." 

Kilpin^s and Whitens J^otes. 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 457 



CHAPTER XLIV. 

bunyan's bibliography. 

In a work which is designed to illustrate the compositions of 
Bunyan from every source capable of affording either interest 
or information, — some bibliographical notices respecting his 
most famous production appear to be equally natural and ap- 
propriate : for though it is certain that little original matter 
can be communicated respecting the supposed literary proto- 
type of the Pilgrim's Progress, it may be useful to recapitulate, 
from a variety of sources not commonly consulted, the very 
strange notions which have been brought forward respecting 
it ; which will be preceded by a k\Y particulars relative to the 
more remarkable editions of the book. 

There is probably no one that iruly appreciates the charac- 
ter of the Author of the wonderful allegory of the Pilgrim's 
Progress, who will either require or believe in any other ori- 
ginal for that work, than the scripture metaphor that human 
life, and especially a life of Christian holiness, is a pilgrimage 
" from this world to that which is to come." The image it- 
self was practically introduced when " the Lord said unto 
Abram, Get thee out of thy country, and from thy kindred, 
and from thy father's house, unto a land that I will show 
thee," {Gen. xii. 1 :) concerning which call the Apostle adds 
to the historian, that he obeyed and " went out not knowing 
whither he went." (Heb. xi. 8.) Hence Jacob described 
both his own life and the lives of his progenitors, by the very 
name of a pilgrim's progress, when he said, '• The days of the 
^ears of my pilgrimage are an hundred and thirty years : few 
and evil have the days of the years of my life been, and have 
not attained unto the days of the years of the life of my fa- 
thers in the days of their pilgrimage." (Gen. xlvii. 9.) Such 
were the simple facts ; but even in the times of the patriarchs, 
this wandering and occasional sojourning in various places 
was regarded as purely typical ; which is proved by the testi- 
mony of St. Paul when he is writing to the Hebrews of the 
39 



458 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 



ancient faithful deceased, who " confessed that they were 
strangers and pilgrims upon the earth," that " they sought a 
country," and that Abraham really " looked for a city which 
hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God," Heh. xi. 
13, 14,) as opposed to a temporary encampment of wandering 
tribes. A connecting link in the employment of the metaphor 
between the very ancient period to which the Apostle refers 
and his own times, is furnished by David ; and the passage 
also proves that the expression " pilgrimage" was really alle- 
gorical, since it was written long after the children of Israel 
were in full possession of " the land of their pilgrimage," and 
a permanent temple to the Almighty was about to be erected 
therein. At the time that the king blessed the Lord, when the 
people oflered willingly towards the erection of the temple, 
even in the midst of his prosperity and honour, he says, " We 
are strangers before thee, and sojourners, as were all our fa- 
thers : our days on earth are as a shadow, and there is none 
abiding." (1 Chron. xxix. 15. Psalm xxxix. 12.) 

These particulars are not only well known to all the religi- 
ous readers of Bunyan, but probably also to his readers in 
general ; and they are now adduced only to show that to a 
mind so filled with divine literature as his, without regarding 
the extraordinary talent which he possessed, there is no sort of 
reason for looking any farther than the Scriptures for the 
original of his immortal allegory : since, in the very first of 
the inspired books is discovered, — to employ his own expres- 
sion, — " the manner of the pilgrim's setting-out," whilst in 
the last is contained the inexpressibly splendid description of 
that glorious " Celestial City," which it was the sole effort 
and aim of the spiritual traveller to arrive at. From these 
remarks in favour of Bunyan having derived his ideas and in- 
spiration from the Scriptures alone, it will be proper in the 
next place to consult his own account of the origin of this 
very remarkable composition, which, in human language, ap- 
pears to have been purely accidental : it occurs in some of his 
most characteristic lines in the commencement of " The 
Author's Apology for his Book." 

" When at the first I took my pen in hand 
Thus for to write, — I did not understand 
That I at all should make a little Book, 
In such a mode : nay, I had undertook 
To make another ; which when almost done, 
Before I was aware, I this begun. 



m 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 459 

And thus it was : I, writing of the way 
And race of saints in this our gospel-day, 
Fell suddenly into an allegory 
About their journey and their way to glory." 

If the date of the first impression of the Pilgrim's Progress 
were accurately known, there would probably be neither doubt 
nor difficulty in stating what was the work upon which the 
Author was employed when the thought of this allegory oc- 
curred to him. The tract was formerly considered to have 
been, very possibly, " The Heavenly Footman, or description 
of the man that gets to heaven, together with the way he runs 
in, the marks he goes by ; and also some directions how to 
run so as to obtain." The epithet " Footman" is here used 
in the sense which it bore down to the end of the seventeenth 
century, namely, that of a domestic who runs before a car- 
riage, or of a traveller on foot, — on account of the similarity 
between such a person and one who 



" runs and runs 



Till he unto the Gate of Glory comes." 

The following passage in that tract indicates some features 
of the Pilgrim's Progress, though it is now more probably as- 
certained, from unquestionable authority, to be noticed present- 
ly, that the work was written nearly twenty years before its 
supposed prototype. " Though the way to heaven," says Bun- 
yan, " be but one, yet there are many crooked lanes and bye- 
paths shoot down upon it, as I may say. And notwithstand- 
ing the kingdom of Heaven be the biggest city, j'-et usually 
those bye-paths are the most beaten : most travellers go those 
ways ; and therefore the way to heaven is hard to be found, 
and as hard to be kept in, because of these." Dr. Southey 
rightly remarks that the works of Bunyan amount to about 
sixty books, which "have been collected into two folio volumes, 
but indiscriminately arranged, and without any notice of their 
respective dates ; and this is a great fault ; for, by a proper ar- 
rangement, or such notices, the progress of his mind might 
more satisfactorily be traced." The information which is here 
so much desired, has been almost completely supplied to the 
Author of the present work, in an original impression of a 
prospectus for printing the whole of the writings of Bunyan in 
two volumes folio, issued in 1691, only three years after his 
death, and one year before the edition which was published by 



460 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

the Baptist ministers, Ebenezer Chandler and John Wilson* 
This prospectus is printed in small folio ; and contains thirty 
" Reasons why Christian people should promote, by subscrip- 
tions, the printing in folio the labours of Mr. John Bunyan, late 
Minister of the Gospel, and Pastor of the congregation at 
Bedford." It is attached to a copy of the first volume of the 
proposed edition, and is connected with an " Index, or 
alphabetical table of contents of the labours of that eminent 
servant of Christ ;" with a blank space intended for the inser- 
tion of the name of any patron of the work, to whom it was 
to be presented "by Charles Doe and William Marshall, be- 
cause of his good will in subscribing to the printing of this 
folio, 1691." The design appears to have been undertaken 
principally by Charles Doe, a Baptist Minister, who entitles 
himself " the Struggle? for the preceding preservation of Mr. 
John Bunyan's labours in folio." He furnishes a short nar. 
rative of the Author's life, with some particulars of the edition 
and index then printed ; but by far the most valuable part of 
this very interesting literary document is the following. 

" A Catalogue-Table of Mr. Bunyan's Books, and their 
SUCCESSION IN publishing ; most(l¥) according to his 
own reckoning. 

*' Note, Those that are in Italic letter, are them that com^ 
pose the First Folio j and the rest are intended, when time 
serves, for a Second Folio. 

" 1, Gospel Truths opened. 1656. 2. A Vindication of 
that. 1657. 3. Sighs from Hell. (Nine impressions.) 4. 
The Two Covenants : Law and Grace. 5. I will pray with 
the Spirit, 1663. 6. A Map of Salvation, etc. 7. The Four 
Last Things. (Three impressions.) 8. Mount Ebel and Ger- 
rizem. 9. Prison-Meditations. 10. The Holy City, etc. 166^ 
11. The Resurrection, etc. 1665. 12. Grace abounding, etc, 
(Six impressions.) 13. Justification by Jesus Christ. 1671. 
14. Confession of Faith, etc. 1672. 15. Difier-ence in Judg- 
ment, etc. 1673. 16. Peaceable Principles, etc. 1674. 17. 
Election and Reprobation, etc. 18. Light for them in Dark-, 
ness. 19. Christian Behaviour. (Four impressions.) 20. In- 
structions for the ignorant. IQlb. 21. Saved hy Grace. 22. 
The Strait Gate. 1676. 23. The Pilgrim's Progress. 
(Twelve impressions.) 24, The fear of God, 1679, 25. Cora© 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 461 

and welcome to Jesus Christ. 26. The Holy War. 1682. 
27. The Barren Fig-Tree. 28. The Greatness of the Soul, 
etc. 29. A Case of Conscience of Prayer. 30. Advice to 
Sufferers. 1684. 31. The Second Part Pilgrim's Pro- 
gress. (Three impressions.) 32. Life and Death of Mr. 
Badman. 33. Holy Life, the Beauty of Christianity. 34. 
The Pharisee and Publican. 1685. 35. A Caution against 
Sin. 36. Meditation on 74 Things. 37. The First-day Sab- 
bath. 1685. 38. The Jerusalem Sinner saved. 1688. 39. 
Jesus Christ an Advocate. 1688. 40. The House of God. 
1688. 41. The Water of Life. 1688. 42. Solomon's Temple 
spiritualized. 43. The Excellence of a Broken Heart. 44. 
His Last Sermon at London. 1688. Twelve Manuscripts, 
part of the First Folio. 45. Exposition on Ten first Chapters 
of Genesis. 46, Justification by imputed Righteousness. 47. 
PauVs Departure and Crown, 1692. 48. Of the Trinity and 
a Christian. 49. Of the Law and a Christian. 50. IsraeVs 
Hope encouraged. 51. Desires of the Righteous granted, 
52. The unsearchable Riches of Christ. 53. Christ a com- 
pleat Saviour hi's Intercession. 54. Sainfs Knowledge of 
Chrisfs love, 55. House of the Forest of Lebanon, 56. A 
Description of Antichrist. 1692. Four Manuscripts yet un- 
printed. 57. -A Christian Dialogue. 58. The Heavenly 
Footman. 59. A Pocket Concordance. 60. An Account of 
his Imprisonment. — Here's Sixty Pieces of his labours, and he 
was sixty years of age." 

It appears from this list, then, that the work on which Bun- 
yan was engaged when the thought of the Pilgrim's Progress 
entered into his mind, was in all probability The Strait Gate, 
the image whereof is to be traced in that wicket.gate through 
which Christian enters on to the way of life. The date affix- 
ed to this composition is 1676, and the earliest copy of The 
Pilgrim's Progress at present known is the second, " with ad- 
ditions," printed in 1678 ; but the time thus supplied confirms 
the conjecture that the first impression must have appeared in 
the year previous. This supposition is also supported by an 
advertisement of the work with the title given at length, con- 
tained in " A continuation of a General Catalogue of Books 
printed and published at London, in Hilary Term, 1677. No. 
14. Licensed, February 18th, 167|-." Small Folio. The 
book is announced, " price bound 1^. 6d. Printed for Na- 
thaniel Ponder, at the Peacock in the Poultry :" in No. 22 of 
the same Catalogue for Hilary Term 1679-1680, the Fourth 
39* 



402 LIFE OF BtrNYAK. 

edition of the Pilgrim is advertised with additions. It is proba* 
ble that the latter reprint incKided all the most important im. 
provements and augmentations which the author ever made in 
his work : for in an advertisement on the reverse of the fron- 
tispiece prefixed to the eighth edition, it is stated that the 
fourth "had many additions more than any preceding." In 
particular Dr. Southey notices " the whole scene between Mr. 
J5y-Ends and his three friends, and their subsequent discourse 
with Christian and Faithful," as having been " added after the 
second edition ;" and he supposes that it was written with 
reference to some particular case, the name of the person in- 
tended being probably well known in Bunyan's circle. The 
same authority adds that although the ninth and tenth impres- 
sions are said to contain additions, they have no alterations 
whatever, and that there are certainly none to be found subse- 
quently to the eighth reprint, excepting such verbal revisions 
" as an Editor has sometimes thought proper to make, or as 
creep into all books which are reprinted without a careful col- 
lation of the text." 

Such appear to be the principal particulars which are now 
recoverable concerning the earliest editions of The Pilgrim's 
Progress : to which shall now be added some notices of re- 
markable subsequent impressions, previously to any farther con- 
sideration of the question as to what work contained the ori- 
ginal germ of that exquisite composition. A series of decora- 
tions to Bunyan, was announced so early as before the eighth 
edition, printed in 1682 ; it being there stated in an advertise- 
ment on the reverse of the frontispiece, that " the publisher ob- 
serving that many persons desired to have the book illustrated 
with pictures, hath endeavoured to gratify them therein ; and 
beside those that are ordinarily printed to the ffth impression, 
hath provided thirteen copper-cuts, curiously engraven, for such 
as desire them." Another decorated edition was published in 
1760,. with sculptures by the accurate and laborious engraver, 
John Sturt, and in 1775, another appeared with twenty-two 
new sculptures ; but perhaps the most celebrated of the older 
illustrated impressions has been that printed for Heptinstall, in 
1791, and of the modern that edited by Dr. Southey in 1^30, 
which also comprises the most complete and accurate text ever 
published. " The Pilgrim's Progress," says Dr. Southey, 
" has more than once been done into verse, but I have seen 
only one version, and that of only the First part. It was print- 
ed by R. Tookey, and to be sold by the booksellers of London 



LIFE OP BUN Y AN. 463 

and Westminster ; but if there be a date to this version, it has 
been worn off with the corner, of the title-page." The first 
versification of this work was probably that by — Hoffmann, 
printed in 1706, adorned with cuts ; another in blank verse by 
J. S. Dodd, M.D., appeared in Dublin in 1765 ; and a third 
was executed by the Rev. Charles Burdett, Rector of Guild- 
ford, in Surrey, and published in 1804. 

"A stranger experiment," continues Dr. Southey, "was 
tried upon the Pilgrim's Progress, in translating it into other 
words, altering the names, and publishing it under the title of 
the Progress of the Pilgrim, without any intimation that this 
imitation is not an original work." It appeared " in two 
two parts compleat. Part I. His pilgrimage from this pre- 
sent world to the world to come ; discovering the difficulties of 
his setting.forth, the hazards of his journey, and safe arrival at 
the heavenly Canaan. Part II. The Pilgrimage of Chris- 
tiana, the wife of Christianus, with her four children ; de- 
scribing their dangerous journey and safe arrival at the land 
of the Blessed, written by way of Dream. Adorned with se- 
veral new pictures. London : printed by W. O. for J. Blare, 
at the Looking-glass on London Bridge, 1705." In this edi- 
tion " Evangelist is called Good-News ; Worldly-Wiseman, 
Mr. Politic Worldly; Legality, Mr. Law-do; the Interpreter, 
Director ; the Palace Beautiful, Grace's Hall ; Vanity town is 
Mundus ; the Giant is Giant Desperation of Diffident Castle ;" 
and the prisoners released from it, instead of Mr. Despond- 
ency and his daughter Much-afraid, are " one Much-cast- 
down, and his kinsman Almost-overcome." " This would ap. 
pear," adds Dr. Southey, " to have been merely the device of 
some knavish bookseller for evading the laws which protect 
literary property ; but the person employed in disguising the 
stolen goods must have been a Roman Catholic, for he has 
omitted all notice of Giant Pope, and Fidelius suffers martyr- 
dom by being hanged, drawn, and quartered. The dialogues 
are much curtailed, and the book, as might be expected, very 
much worsened throughout ; except that better verses are in- 
serted." It must be evident to all who possess the slightest 
taste for natural and genuine talent, that any attempts to im- 
prove its productions to make them accord with the prevailing 
language of the period, must terminate in a similar failure ; or 
in such an absurd version as that which the Rev. Moses 
Browne executed of the exquisite Complete Angler of Izaak 
Walton; which he endeavoured to refine by "filing off some- 



464 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

thing of that rust and uncouthness which time fixes on the 
most curious and finished things." It is, however, not a Uttle 
surprising, that so late as the year 1811, an edition of the 
Pilgrim's Progress was published at Wellington, in the County 
of Salop, by the Rev. Joshua Gilpin, Vicar of Wrockwardine, 
in which " the phraseology of the author is somewhat improved, 
some of his obscurities elucidated, and some of his redundancies 
are done away." In this impression, also, the original poetry 
was altered. 

There is no doubt that much of the religious charm in Bun- 
yan's allegory is the extraordinary capability which it pos- 
sesses of being read by a variety of sincere, though differing. 
Christians, as an almost universal spiritual language, to be 
understood and enjoyed with their own peculiar views, and yet 
worthy of all acceptation. This feeling might have been 
thought sufficient to prevent any Editor from attempting too 
much in the way of spiritual explanation ; and probably the 
most effectual method of opening its mysteries, was that af- 
firmed to have been employed near the time of the first pub- 
lication of the Pilgrim's Progress, when several ministers 
thought it a pleasant and profitable exercise to read and ex- 
plain it to their people in private meetings. Even the prin- 
cipal and most approved of these annotated editions of the 
work, are now too numerous to be recited in this place ; but 
it may be noticed that in 1775 an impression was published, 
the preface of which stated that there were " now first added 
practical and explanatory notes ; in which particular notice is 
taken of such circumstances as appear calculated to inform 
the judgment and warm the heart ;" such notes being inserted 
beneath the text in the form of paragraphs. The separation 
of the work into chapters, appears to have been ^first adopted 
by the Rev. G. Burder, of Coventry, in his very favourite 
edition originally printed in 1786 ; and the preface contains 
the following account of his plan. " To render the Pilgrim's 
Progress of still greater use, this edition is presented to the 
public in a form entirely new. The work is divided into dis- 
tinct sections, of a convenient length, the design of which is 
to oblige the reader to make a frequent pause ; for so enter- 
taining is the narrative, that the reader becomes interested in 
every transaction, and is tempted to proceed with a precipi- 
tation that excludes proper reflections. The reader is, then, 
assisted to improve these pauses by the explanatory notes." 
Mr. Burder's edition appears to have been always popular,. 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 465 

and has been frequently reprinted; and in the impression of 
1791 is inserted a parallel between the Pilgrim's Progress and 
and Paradise Lost, by the Rev. Dr. Gillies, one of the minis- 
ters of Glasgow. 

In closing these notices of the remarkable editions of Ban- 
yan's renowned work, the foreign versions of it must not be 
passed over unnoticed. "I believe," says Dr. Southey, that 
<' there is no European language into which the Pilgrim's Pro- 
gress has not been translated ;" though the French and Portu- 
guese copies are somewhat accommodated to the views of the 
Roman Catholic Church. In Charles Doe's short narrative of 
the Author's life, already noticed, it is stated that the work 
"hath been printed in France, Holland, New England, and in 
Welsh ; and about a hundred thousand in England ; whereby 
they are made some means of grace, and the Author become 
famous, and may be the means of spreading his other gospel- 
books over the European and American world, and in process 
of time may be so to the whole universe." 

It is not improbable that to the fulfilment of this desire is to 
be attributed the entire disappearance of the original edition 
of the Pilgrim's Progress ; almost the whole impression having 
been carried out of England, and especially across the At- 
lantic, by those nonconformists who emigrated to Massa- 
chusetts between the years 1677 and 1684, or after the pub- 
lication of the first part of the work, and before that of the 
second. If this supposition be true, the original impression 
will most probably be discovered in America ; and the truth of 
it seems to be supported by the circumstance that the older 
religious emigrants were accustomed to deny the authenticity 
of the second part of the book, as not having been published 
by the author to their own personal knowledge. In the verses 
which are added at the end of the first part, Bunyan says to 
his reader, 

•if thou shall cast all away as vain, 



I know not but 't will make me dream again :"■ 

but though the appearance of the second part was to be at- 
tributed partly to the triumphant success, and not at all to 
any neglect shown to the book, — certain dishonest imitators 
appear to have seized upon the hint, and, for the purpose of 
securing for their productions a success of which they were 
altogether unworthy, to have counterfeited " the pilgrim and 



466 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

his name," to have adopted part of the title, and even half the 
name of the Author. The latter deception was probably executed 
thus, " Jo. Bun." according to a vicious practice of contracting 
signatures which prevailed through almost the whole of the 
seventeenth century. At length, however, the genuine se- 
cond part was published, being certified not only by this im- 
primatur on the reverse of the title-page "I appoint Mr. Nathan- 
iel Ponder, but no other to print this book. John Bunyan, 
January 1, 1681 :" — but also by the matchless uniformity of 
the style and interest of the narrative, with such a prefatory 
copy of verses, entitled, « The Author's way of sending forth 
his Second Part of the Pilgrim," as no man living could have 
written excepting himself. Dr. Southey notices only one of 
these imitations, which he states has no other relation to the 
original work than the title ; and rightly observes, that " it is 
by accident only that books of this perishable kind, which have 
no merit of their own to preserve them, are to be met with." 
— These notices of the bibliography of the Pilgrim's Progress, 
shall now be succeeded by some particulars of the various 
sources whence it has been so often affirmed to have been 
taken. 

It is almost to be feared that the remote and secret spring 
of all the industrious inquiry after the original of Bunyan's 
work, may be traced to an envious wonder that an illiterate 
person, enlightened only by the Holy Spirit and an intimate 
knowledge of the Scriptures, should be found capable of pro- 
ducing a book which has not its equal in the literature of any 
period, for either language, treatment, or originality. Hence, 
instead of regarding it is a narrative perfect both as to design 
and execution, the proofs that a previous idea was suggested 
to the Author's mind seem to have been sought for chiefly in 
two particulars, which are altogether untenable and almost 
unworthy of examination : the occurrence of the word " pil- 
grim " or " pilgrimage " in the titles of older books, or some 
supposed resemblance in ancient engravings to certain re- 
markable scenes described in the Pilgrim's Progress. The 
oldest work which has been mentioned as such a prototype, is 
the celebrated Pilgrimage of the Soul ; and as it is usual in 
examinations similar to the present to notice little more than 
the name of this composition, the reader will be certainly the 
better enabled to exonerate Bunyan from any imitation of the 
book, if some account of it is here inserted. 

In the early part of the fourteenth century, when poetical al- 



LIFE OP BUNYAN. 467 

legories had become common, it was a very general practice 
to resolve such compositions into significations which they 
were never intended to bear. The famous Romaunt of the 
Rose was one of these poems, in which the poet couches the 
difficulties of an ardent lover obtaining the object of his pas- 
sion under the allegory of a rose, which is gathered in a de- 
licious, but almost inaccessible garden. " The theologians," 
continues Warton, in the Third Dissertation prefixed to his 
History of English Poetry, — " proved this rose to be the 
white rose of Jericho, the New Jerusalem, a state of grace, 
divine wisdom, the holy virgin or eternal beatitude ; at none 
of which obstinate heretics can ever arrive. The chemists 
pretended that it was the Philosopher's-stone ; the civilians, 
that it was the most consummate point of equitable decision ; 
and the physicians that it was an infallible panacea. In a 
word, other professions in the most elaborate commentaries ex- 
plained away the lover's rose into the mysteries of their own 
respective sciences. From this composition Guillame De 
Deguilleville, a priest of the Abbaye Royale of St. Bernard at 
Chagles, acknowledges that he took the idea of his poem en- 
titled " Le Romaunt des Trois Pelerinaiges," out of which was 
derived the Pilgrimage of the Soul. In the work of De De- 
guilleville, the author relates that having seen in a vision the 
representation of the heavenly Jerusalem, he conceives a ve- 
hement desire to behold it in reality. Whilst he is consider- 
ing the means of procuring the habit of a pilgrim, a beautiful 
female, called Grace of God, appears to him and gives him in- 
structions for the journey, with the staffs of a palmer and a 
scarf, to which she offers to add a complete suit of armour ; he 
declines the latter, however, and takes with him only the sling 
of David, with the five mystical stones which he carried 
against Goliath. The pilgrim encounters a great number of 
difficulties on his journey, but he overcomes them all by the 
assistance of his beautiful guide, who attends on him invisibly, 
and who has also given him a collection of prayers to recite 
by the way. He arrives at length at a monastery, where he 
finds new causes of vexation instead of that tranquillity which 
he sought. He is overthrown by Envy and Treachery, but 
the Lady Mercy recovers him, and he is conducted to the in- 
firmary, where his wounds are dressed. Death, however, is 
awaiting him, and strikes him so violent a blow with his 
scythe that the dreamer is awakened, and the first part of the 
romance concludes. In the second part the subject is con- 



468 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

tinued, and the author is dead ; though he is conscious of his 
departure, and witnessed the funeral obsequies which are per- 
formed for his body, His soul soars away towards the celes- 
tial regions, but Satan arrests its flight, and it is constrained 
to reply to all the reproaches with which it is overwhelmed by 
the enemy of man. The saints, however, come to the aid of the 
spirit, Mercy puts to flight the fiend, and the soul is conducted 
by its good angel into Purgatory, the fires whereof purify it 
from all its pollutions. It is at length admitted into heaven ; 
and under the guidance of the angel, is led through the blessed 
mansions, when a dazzling light awakens the sleeper and ter- 
minates the second pilgrimage. The third part consists only 
of the pilgrimage of Christ upon earth, taken from the Evan- 
gelists, interspersed with moral reflections. — The composition 
thus described, was originally written in octosyllabic verse, 
and met with the greatest success in the fourteenth century. 
The first pilgrimage was rendered into French prose by Jean 
Gallopez, a clerk of Angers, at the request of Jeanne I., Queen 
of Sicily, in 1485 ; the style of the whole having been pre- 
viously improved by Pierre Virgin, a Priest of Clairvaux ; 
but the second part only has been translated into English, and 
was printed by Caxton under the title of The Pilgrimage of 
the Soul, in 1483. After the preceding account of the work, 
it is not very probable that any reader will believe that it 
contains the germ of The Pilgrim's Progress, especially as the 
whole action of the piece passes in the world of spirits, and 
commences with the very period at which Bunyan concludes. 
Such readers, however, as may be desirous of seeing specimens 
of the language of this extremely rare work, may be gratified 
by consulting the first volume of Dr. T. F. Dibdin's edition of 
the Typographical Antiquities of Ames and Herbert, pages 
153—158. 

The Pilgrimage of Perfection, written by William Bond, a 
brother of Sion Monastery, and first printed by Wynkyn De 
Worde, in 1526, is another book cited against the originality 
of Bunyan, with as little propriety as the former. The devo- 
tional treatise, so called, is divided into three parts, of which 
the first shows that the Christian life is a pilgrimage ; the 
second that it leaves the world, and the third contams the 
self-pilgrim, in a seven days' journey assigned to the seven 
days of the v/eek, the first five containing the active life of 
religion, and the last two the contemplative life. The whole 
work is a collection of monastical literature and devotions, 



LIFE OP BUN Y AN. 459 

comprising expositions of the Pater-noster, Creed, Ave, and 
Decalogue ; with copious extracts from the Fathers and em- 
blematical cuts of the Tree of Grace, the Tree of Vice, and 
" the Star of Grace, whose seven beauties be the seven gifts 
of the Holy Ghost." The very term « perfection " is employed 
in the old monastical sense of the word, namely, a life of 
poverty, self-denial and devotion, and not as the name of any 
place to which the pilgrim is travelling. 

In 1627 the celebrated engraver Boetius Adam Bolswaert, 
published at Antwerp a series of twenty-seven small allegorical 
plates, which were brought forward some years since as cer- 
tainly belonging to a book containing the original of The 
Pilgrim's Progress, extant in French, Spanish, Dutch, and 
other languages, long previous to Bunyan's time. The title 
of the work referred to, when translated into Englishj is « The 
Pilgrimage of Dovekin and Will-kin to their beloved in Jeru- 
salem, with a narrative of their adversities and the end of their 
adventures ; described and set forth in emblematical pictures 
by Boetius of Bolswaert :" and the design of the allegory is 
to exhibit the active progress of the natural will and elevated 
affections in a spiritual life. The contents of the volume are 
almost entirely in dialogue or soliloq uy, the end of each chap, 
ter being succeeded by a short spiritual explanation given in 
a conversation between an enquirer and an interpreter ; and 
the incidents of the narrative show that though the human 
will by following its own desires may perish, the warmth of 
devotional love will finally lead the affection in happiness to 
the Saviour. Dr. Southey has so well related the manner in 
which this book was first brought forward as Bunyan's original, 
and has given so good an analysis of the narrative, with so 
complete a vindication of the author of The Pilgrim's Pro- 
gress, — that nothing more will be required in this place than 
a very few remarks on the hints supposed to have been sug- 
gested by the plates. One of these attached to chapter xvi. 
is considered to represent the Slough of Despond, which, how- 
ever, in the very engraving is shown to be that which it is 
described in the text, a narrow winding marshy dyke lying on 
the left hand, out of the pilgrim'' s road ; and Will-kin falls into 
it solely from going into a bye-path to look at some calves at 
play ; all which circumstances present an image perfectly 
different from the broad miry slough in the midst o^ the plain, 
having the way to the strait gate lying directly over it. A 
village-fete with a dance for a garland, and a single puppet- 
40 



470 LIFE OF BUNYAN, 

show with the stage of a mountebank, two separate plates 
prefixed to chapters v. and xxvii., have been referred to as the 
originals of the elaborate description of Vanity Fair, with 
which neither the text nor the plates of the Dutch work have 
anything in common. Lastly Will-kin begins to boast of her 
own works, and notwithstanding the entreaties of her sister 
Dove-kin, she mounts a lofty and dangerous rock in order to 
obtain a better prospect ; but she is thence blown down by 
the wind of vanity into a deep pit full of noxious creatures, 
whence she cannot be delivered. The interior of this place 
is represented in the plate prefixed to chapter xxxii. ; and as 
it exhibits Will-kin deploring her miserable condition in dark- 
ness, in the midst of a subterranean marsh, surrounded by 
serpents hissing at her, with lightning and storm pouring down 
upon her, the scene has been thought to have prefigured the 
Valley of the Shadow of Death in the Pilgrim's Progress. 
But the place of woe in the Dutch allegory is one of final 
despair, lying out of the traveller's road, and the way to the 
Celestial City lay through the midst of the land of temporary 
distress described by Bunyan. The truth, however, is, that 
the same volume which supplied him with the inimitable title 
of " the Valley of the Shadow of Death," also furnished such 
a description of it as no pictorial representation could either 
suggest or express ; and he refers at once to his authority by 
taking the words of the Prophet Jeremiah into his text. The 
Holy Scriptures, then, with the Acts and Monuments of John 
Foxe, appear to have contained all the literary materials pos- 
sessed by Bunyan when he "lighted on a certain place in the 
wilderness of this world where there was a den ; " for there is 
not anything in all his Pilgrim's Progress which cannot be 
satisfactorily referred to one of these, and this conclusion is 
in strict accordance with the uniform statement that they 
were the only books that he had with him in the prison. 
With respect to great similarities existing between some of the 
incidents of Bunyan and engraved emblems, the answer is 
plain, that the images in both were derived from the Scrip- 
tures, and therefore common to several different collections ; 
that most of those bocks were probably never seen, and would 
certainly have been altogether disregarded, by him ; and that 
his peculiar manner of treating his subjects proves the source 
to which he was indebted. Mr. Montgomery has noticed 
that a poem entitled the Pilgrimage, in GeoflVey Whitney's 
Emblems, first published at Leyden, in 1586, with the en- 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 471 

graving prefixed to it, may have suggested the first idea of the 
story ; for, he continues, if Bunyan had had Whitney's pic- 
ture before him he could not more accurately have copied it 
in words, than in the passage where Evangelist directs Chris- 
tian to the wicket-gate. In addition, however, to his being 
famihar with this image in the New Testament, it had been 
long since actually exhibited to him in a dream, which he has 
recorded in his Grace Abounding. 

There seems never to have been any supposition that the 
Pilgrim's Progress was in the slightest degree indebted to The 
Parable of the Pilgrim, written by Dr. Simon Patrick, Bishop 
of Ely, and published in a thick small quarto in 1665. This 
work contains very few incidents, being little more than a 
series of long conversations between the pilgrim and his 
guide ; it is well written in the language of the time, though 
somewhat heavy, and it contains not a few Roman Catholic 
legends ; which have occasioned the remark " that Bunyan's 
Pilgrim is a Christian, but that Patrick's is a pedlar who deals 
in damaged wares." 

With this work the present bibliographical notices may 
properly be concluded ; but as it may be curious to put upon 
record the titles of some other books bearing titles somewhat 
similar to that of Bunyan, which are standing proofs of his 
originality and superiority, — a short list of them is here added, 
with the names of a few more, that are evidently modern 
imitations of the immortal Pilgrim's Progress. 

The Pilgrimajie to Paradise ; compiled for the direction, comfort, and 
resolution of God's poore distressed children in passing through this 
irksome wildernesse of temptation and tryall. By Leonard Wright. 
Lond. 1591. 4to. 

The Pilgrim's Journey towards Heaven. By William Webster. Lond. 
1613. 8vo. 

The Pilgrim's Practice, containing many Godly Prayers. By Robert 
Bruen. Lond. 1621. 8vo. 

Two Treirtises: namely, the Pearl of the Gospel, and the Pilgrim's Pro- 
fession ; with a ^iasse for gentlewomen to dress themselves by. By the 
Rev. Thomas Taylor, D.D. Lond. 1624. 8vo. 

The Pilgrim's Passe to the New Jerusxlem : or the serious Christian his 
enquiries after heaven. By M. R. Gent. Loful. 1659. 12mo.— A Col- 
lection of seven meditations on different passages of Scripture ; the first 
of which is called " Abraham's profession and the pilgrim's condition : 
or the enquiring sojourner directed : a meditation on Genesis xxni. 4." 



472 LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 

The Pilgrim's Progress from Cluakerism to Christianity. By Francis 
Bugg. Lond. 1698. 4 to. 

The Spiritual Pilgrim, or the Christian's Journey to the New Jerusalem' 
By Henry Wilson. Lond. 1710. 12mo. 

Desiderius, or the original Pilgrim • a divine dialogue from the Spanish. 
By the Rev. Laurence Howel. Lond. 1717. 8vo. 

The Female Pilgrim, or the Travels of Hephzibah : under the similitude 
of a dream. Zonrf. 1762. 8 vo. 

The Christian Pilgrim. By John Allen. Lond. 1800. 8vo. 

The Pilgrimage of Theophilus to the City of God. Wellington, Salop. 
1812. 8vo. 

I owe much of tliis chapter to a literary friend, who wil^ 
not allow me to name him ; although I only furnished him 
with Boulsvert's Pilgrim, Charles Doe's Circular, and a few 
desultory hints, in proof of the fact that the Pilgrim's Progress 
grew out of " The Strait Gate." It will be observed that 
nothing is said of the Third part of the Pilgrim's Progress : 
I cannot join in this silence. That work may not be Bun- 
yan's ; but it is the production of a man of real genius. Mr. 
Newton said, that it was not like Aaron's rod which budded. 
It is, however, so highly wrought, and richly gemmed, that it 
is in some points, very like the Ark which enshrined that rod. 
Accordingly, Bunyan's first Biographer claims it for him; al- 
though his first Editor does not even mention it. My chief 
difficulty lies in the artificial structure of the work. Parts of 
it are like Dr. Patrick, and some of it is worthy of Butler. 
The diamond cave of Contemplation is worthy even of Milton. 
For my own part, therefore, I should be glad to find that it was 
Bunyan's. It is certainly not Vike him ; but it is any thing but 
unworthy of him. The Critics who despise it are no crafts- 
man, whatever else they may be. They forget, also, that the 
Life of Badman is a fourth form of Pilgrimage, in Bunyan*s 
opinion, although there is no allegory in it. Bunyan, at least, 
says so; and he is surely the best judge of his own designs. 
See the Preface to the Life and Death of Mr. Badman. 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 473 



CHAPTER XLV. 

LAST DAYS. 

BuNYAN evidently dreaded every new crisis in public affairs. 
He had reason to do so. Venner's conspiracy increased the 
severity of his first six years' imprisonment. On the occasion 
of the fire in London, he was thrown into prison again. As 
soon after James II. came to the throne, in 1685, Bunyan con- 
veyed the whole of his property to his wife, by a singular 
deed, which can only be accounted for by his suspicions of 
James and Jefferies, and by his horror at the revocation of the 
Edict of Nantz. The asvlum which the Refugees found in 
England, did not prove to him that he was safe. No wonder. 
" KiRKE and his lambs were abroad, and the Bedford Justices 
still in power." 

It was under these suspicious circumstances, that he divest, 
ed himself of all his property, in order to save his family from 
want, should he again be made a victim. These coincidences 
give a peculiar interest to the Deed of Conveyance ; a fac- 
simile of which, from the original, is now presented to the pub- 
lic. The history of its transmission I am unable to give. 
There is, however, not the shadow of a doubt rests upon its 
authenticity. Bunyan's own signature is unquestionable. I 
have been able also to verify that by the Instrument in which 
Ruffhead conveyed to Bunyan the ground on which his Chapel 
was built. The original is now endorsed on the back thus : 
" This Will is left by indenture hereunto subscribed, to the 
Rev. Samuel Hillyard, Minister of Bunyan's Meeting, to be pre- 
sented to the Trustees of the said Meeting, to be held by them 
in continuance. Dated this 26th day of October, 1832. Bed- 
ford. Witness, A. Brandram, Secretary of the British and 
Foreign Bible Society ; G. P. Livius ; J. S. Grimshaw, Vicar 
of Biddcnham." " According to the above statement, this 
writing of John Bunyan's was put into my hand at the death 
40* 



474 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

of Mrs. Livius, and it is my wish that it should be attached to 
the Cliurch Book. Samuel Hillyard." " Witness, Robert 
Philip, Author of the Life and Times of Bunyan ; William 
White, Bookseller. Bedford, October 30th, 1838." Mrs. Li- 
vius, if not a descendant, was, I think, in some way related to 
the Bunyan family. 

It will be seen that the Deed would not have secured the 
entire property to Mrs. Bunyan. It shows, however, Bunyan's 
solicitude for her comfort, and his confidence in her prudence. 
And his Elizabeth well deserved both ! 

Whatever Bunyan may have feared when he thus disposed 
of all of the little property he had, nothing befel him under 
James II. He published "The Pharisee and Publican," in 
1685 ; the year of the King's accession : and in 1688, Charles 
Doe says, " he published ^ia; Books (being the time of K. James 
II. 's Liberty of Conscience.") This appears from Doe's list. 
It throws also much light upon Bunyan's death. Such labour 
could not fail to sap his strength, even if he did nothing but 
carry the six Books through the Press ; for none of them are 
small, except the last. The usual account of Bunyan's death 
is, that he caught cold, whilst returning from Reading to Lon- 
don on horseback. Violent fever ensued, and after an illness 
of ten days, he resigned his spirit. Now all this is as true as 
it is brief: but is not all the truth. " He was seized with a 
sweating distemper," says Doe, " after he published six books ; 
w^hich, after some weeks going about, proved his death." Doe's 
Circular. This fact was not known even to his first Biogra- 
pher. The Sketch in the British Museum states, that " tak- 
ing a tedious journey in a slabby rainy day, and returning late 
to London, he was entertained by one Mr. Strudwick, a Gro- 
cer on Snow Hill, with all the kind endearments of a loving 
friend ; but soon found himself indisposed with a kind of 
shakings as it were an ague, which increasing to a kind of 
fever, he took to his bed, where, growing worse, he found he 
had not long to last in this world, and therefore prepared him- 
self for another, towards which he had been journeying as a 
Pilgrim and stranger upon earth, the prime of his days." — 
P. 35. 

The occasion of his journey to Reading, which has always 
been called, " a labour of love and charity," will now be more 
interesting than it hitherto has been. It was not undertaken 
by a man in health ; but by an over-wrought Author, sinking 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 475 

under " a sweating distemper." Mr. Ivimey's account of Bun- 
yan's errand, being the best, I quote it : 

" The last act of his life was a labour of love and charity. 
A young gentleman, a neighbour of Mr. Bunyan, falling under 
his father's displeasure, and being much troubled in mind on 
that account, and also from hearing it was his father's design 
to disinherit him, or otherwise deprive him of what he had to 
leave, he pitched upon Mr. Bunyan as a fit man to make way 
for his submission, and prepare his mind to receive him ; which 
he, being willing to undertake any good office, readily engaged 
in, and went to Reading in Bedfordshire, for that purpose. 
There he so successfully accomplished his design, by using 
such pressing arguments and reasons against anger and pas- 
sion, and also for love and reconciliation, that the father's heart 
was softened, and his bowels yearned over his son. 

" After Mr. Bunyan had disposed every thing in the best 
manner to promote an accommodation as he returned to Lon- 
don on horseback, he was overtaken with excessive rains ; and 
coming to his lodgings extremely wet, he fell sick with a vio- 
lent fever, which he bore with much constancy and patience ; 
and expressed himself, as if he wished nothing more than to 
depart and be with Christ, considering it as gain, and life onlv 
a tedious delay of expected felicity. Finding his strength de- 
cay, he settled his worldly affairs, as well as the shortness of 
the time and the violence of the disorder would permit ; and 
after an illness of ten days, with unshaken confidence, he re- 
signed his soul, on the iUst of August, 1688, being sixty years 
of age, into the hand of his most merciful Redeemer ; follow- 
ing his Pilgrim from the City of Destruction to the New Je- 
rusalem, his better part having been all along there in holy 
contemplations, pantings and breathings after the hidden man- 
na and the water of life."— P. 300. 

As I cannot, of course, add any thing to this, it is the more 
incumbent upon me to preserve whatever else has been ascer- 
tained concerning Bunyan's death-bed. His first Biographer 
adds, "His prayers were fervent and frequent ; and he even so 
little minded himself, as to the concerns of this life, that he 
comforted those that wept about him, exhorting them to trust 
in God, and pray to him for mercy and forgiveness of their 
sins, telling them what a glorious exchange it would be, to leave 
the troubles and cares of a wretched mortality to live with 
Christ for ever, with peace and joy inexpressible, expounding 
to them the comfortable Scriptures by which they were to hope 



476 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

and assuredly come unto a blessed resurrection in the last day. 
He desired some to pray with him, and he joined with them in 
prayer ; and the last words, after he had struggled with a lan- 
guishing disease, were, viz : ' Weep not for me, but for your- 
selves : I go to the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who will 
no doubt, through the mediation of his blessed Son, receive 
me, though a sinner, where I hope we ere long shall meet, to 
sing the new song, and remain for everlastingly happy, world 
without end. Amen !" — Museum Sketch. 

We are indebted, most likely, to the Strudwick family, for 
the following " Dying Sayings" of Bunyan. They were first 
published by his successor, Chandler, in 1692. 

MR. BUNYAn's dying SAYINGS. 

Of Sin, 

Sin is the great block and bar to our happiness, the procurer 
of all miseries to man, both here and hereafter ; take away 
sin, and nothing can hurt us, for death temporal, spiritual, and 
eternal is the wages of it. 

Sin, and man for sin, is the object of the wrath of God. 
How dreadful, therefore must his case be who continues in sin ; 
for who can bear and grapple with the wrath of God ? 

No sin against God can be little, because it is against the 
great God of heaven and earth ; but if the sinner can find 
out a little God, it may be easy to find out little sins. 

Sin turns all God's grace into wantonness : it is the dare of 
his justice ; the rape of his mercy ; the jeer of his patience; 
the slight of his power ; and the contempt of his love. 

Take heed of giving thyself liberty of committing one sin, 
for that will lead thee to another ; till by an ill custom it be- 
come natural. 

To begin sin is to lay a foundation for a continuance ; this 
continuance is the mother of custom, and impudence at last 
the issue. 

The death of Christ giveth us the best discovery of ourselves ; 
in what condition we were, so that nothing could help us but 
that; and the most clear discovery of the dreadful nature of 
our sins. For if sin be such a dreadful thing as to wring the 
heart of the Son of God, how shall a poor wretched sinner be 
able to bear it ? 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 477 

Of Affliction, 

Nothing can render affliction so heavy as the load of sin ; 
would you therefore be fitted for afflictions, be sure to get the 
burden of your sins laid aside, and then what afflictions soever 
you meet with, will be very easy to you. 

If thou canst hear, and bear, the rod of affliction which 
God shall lay upon thee, remember this lesson, thou art beaten 
that thou mayest be better. 

The Lord useth his flail of tribulation, to separate the chaff 
from the wheat. 

The school of the cross, is the school of light ; it discovers 
the world's vanity, baseness, and wickedness, and lets us see 
more of God's mind. Out of dark affliction comes a spiritual 
light. 

In times of affliction, we commonly meet with the sweetest 
experiences of the love of God. 

Did we heartily renounce the pleasures of this world, we 
should be very little troubled for our afflictions; that which 
renders an afflicted state so insupportable to many, is because 
they are too much addicted to the pleasures of this life ; and 
so cannot endure that which makes a separation between them. 

Of Repentance, and coming to Christ. 

The end of affliction is the discovery of sin; and of that, 
to bring us to the Saviour ; let us therefore, with the prodigal, 
return unto him, and we shall find ease, and rest. 

A returning penitent, though formerly bad as the worst of 
men, may by grace become as good as the best. 

To be truly sensible of sin, is to sorrow for displeasing of 
God : to be afflicted that he ia displeased bt/ us, more than that 
he is displeased with us. 

Your intentions to repentance, and the neglect of that soul 
saving duty, will rise up in judgment against you. 

Repentance carries with it a divine rhetoric, and persuades 
Christ to forgive multitudes of sins committed against him. 

Say not to thyself, to-morrow I will repent, for it is thy 
duty to do it daily. 

The gospel of grace and salvation, is above all doctrines the 
most dangerous, if it be received in tcord only by graceless 
men ; if it be not attended with a sensible need of a Saviour, 
and bring them to him ; for such men as have only the notion 



478 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

of it, are of all men most miserable ; for by reason of their 
knowing more than heathens, this shall only be their final 
portion, that they shall have greater stripes. 

Of Prayer* 

Before you enter into prayer, ask thy soul these questions. 
1. To what end, O my soul ! art thou retired into this place? 
Art thou come to converse with the Lord in prayer 1 Is he 
present, will he hear thee 1 Is he merciful, will he help thee ? 
Is thy business slight, is it not concerning the welfare of thy 
soul ? What words wilt thou use to move him to compassion? 

To make thy preparation complete, consider that thou art 
but dust and ashes ; and He the great God, Father of our 
Lord Jesus Christ, that clothes himself with light, as with a 
garment ; that thou art a vile sinner, and he a holy God ; that 
thou art but a poor crawling worm, and he the omnipotent 
Creator. 

In all your prayers, forget not to thank the Lord for his 
mercies. 

When thou prayest, rather let thy heart be without words, 
than thy words without heart. 

Prayer will make a man cease from sin, or sin will entice a 
man to cease from prayer. 

The spirit of prayer is more precious than thousands of 
gold and silver. 

Pray often, for prayer is a shield to the soul, a sacrifice to 
God, and a scourge for Satan. 

Of the Lord's -days, Sermons, and Week-days, 

Have a special care to sanctify the Lord's day, for as thou 
keepest it, so will it be with thee all the week long. 

Make the Lord's-day, the market for thy soul ; let the whole 
day be spent in prayer, in repetitions, or meditations ; lay 
aside the affairs of the other parts of the week ; let the sermon 
thou hast heard be converted into prayer : shall God allow thee 
six days, and wilt thou not aflx>rd him one ? 

In the church be careful to serve God, for thou art in his 
eyes, and not in man's. 

Thou mayest hear sermons often, and do well in practising 
what'thou hearest ; but thou must not expect to be told in a 
pulpit all thou oughtest to do, but be studious in reading the 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 479 

scriptures, and other good books ; what thou hearest may be 
forgotten, but what thou readest may better be retained. 

Forsake not the public worship of God, lest God forsake 
thee ; not only in public, but in private. 

On the week-day, when thou risest in the morning ; consider, 
1. Thou must die ; 2. Thou mayest die that minute ; 3. 
What will become of thy soul. Pray often. At night con- 
sider, 1. What sins thou hast committed ; 2. How often thou 
hast prayed ; 3. What hath thy mind been bent upon ; 4. 
What hath been thy dealing ; 5. What thy conversation ; 6. 
If thou callest to mind the errors of the day, sleep not without 
a confession to God, and a hope of pardon. Thus, every 
morning, and evening, make up thy account with almighty 
God ; and thy reckoning will be the less at last. 

Of the Love of the World. 

Nothing more hinders a soul from coming to Christ, than a 
vain love of the world ; and till a soul is freed from it, it can 
never have a true love for God. 

What are the honours and riches of this world, when com- 
pared with the glories of a crown of life. 1 

Love not the world, for it's a moth in a Christian's life. 

To despise the world, is the way to enjoy heaven ; and 
blessed are they who delight to converse with God by prayer. 

What folly can be greater than to labour for the meat that 
perisheth, and neglect the food of eternal life 1 

God, or the world, must be neglected, at parting time ; for 
then is the time of trial. 

To seek yourself in this life, is to be lost ; and to be humbled, 
is to be exalted. 

The epicure that delighteth in the dainties of this world, 
little thinketh that those very creatures >vill one day witness 
against him. 

On Suffering, 

It is not every suffering that makes a man a martyr ; but 
suffering for the word of God after a right manner ; that is, 
not only for righteousness, but for righteousness' sake ; not 
only for truth, but out of love to truth ; not only for God's 
word, but according to it : to wit, in that holy, humble, meek 
manner, as the word of God requireth. 



480 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

It is a rare thing to suffer aright, and to have my spirit in 
suffering bent against God's enemy, sin. Sin in doctrine, sin 
in worship, sin in life, and sin in conversation. 

Neither the devil, nor men of the world, can kill thy right- 
eousness, or love to it, but by thy own hand ; or separate that 
and thee asunder, without thy own act. Nor will he, that 
doth indeed suffer for the sake of it, or out of love he bears 
thereto, be tempted to exchange it, for the good will of the 
whole world. 

I have often thought that the best of Christians are found 
in the worst times ; and I have thought again, that one reason 
why we are not better is, because God purges us no more : 
Noah, and Lot, who so holy as they in the time of their afflic- 
tions ! And yet, who so idle as they in the time of their 
prosperity ? 

Of Deaths and Judgment. 

As the devil labours by all means to keep out other things 
that are good, so to keep out of the heart, as much as in him 
lies, the thoughts of passing out of this life into another 
world ; for he knows if he can but keep them from the serious 
thoughts of death, he shall the more easily keep them in their 
sins. 

Nothing will make us more earnest in working out the 
work of our salvation, than a frequent meditation of mortality ; 
nothing hath a greater influence for the taking off our hearts 
from vanities, and for the begetting in us desires for holiness. 

O ! sinner, what a condition wilt thou fall into when thou 
departest this world ; if thou depart unconverted thou hadst 
better have been smothered the first hour thou wast born ; thou 
hadst better have been plucked one limb from the other ; thou 
hadst better have been a dog, a toad, a serpent, than to die 
unconverted ; and this thou wilt find true if thou repent not. 
A man v/ould be counted a fool to slight a judge before whom 
he is to have a trial of his whole estate ; the trial we are to 
have before God, is of othe?'guise importance ; it concerns our 
eternal happiness, or misery, and yet dare we affront him. 

The only way for us to escape that terrible judgment, is to 
be often passing a sentence of condemnation upon ourselves 
here. 

When the sound of the trumpet shall be heard, which shall 
summon the dead to appear before the tribunal of God, the 



LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 481 

righteous shall hasten out of their graves with joy, to meet 
their Redeemer in the clouds ; others shall call to the moun- 
tains and hills to fall upon them, to cover them from the sight 
of their Judge ; let us therefore in time be 'posing ourselves to 
know which of the two we shall be. 

Of the Joys of Heaven, 

There is no good in this life, but what is mingled with some 
evil. Honours perplex, riches disquiet, and pleasures ruia 
health. But in heaven, we shall find blessings in their purity, 
without any ingredient to imbitter ; with every thing to 
sweeten it. 

O ! who is able to conceive the inexpressible, inconceivable 
joys, that are there ? None but they who have tasted of 
them. Lord, help us to put such a value upon them here, that 
in order to prepare ourselves for them, we may be willing to 
forego the loss of all those deluding pleasures here. 

How will the heavens echo for joy, when the bride, the 
Lamb's wife, shall come to dwell with her husband for ever ! 

Christ is the desire of nations, the joy of angels, the delight 
of the Father ; what solace then must the soul be filled with, 
that hath the possession of him to all eternity, 

O ! what acclamations of joy will there be, when all the 
children of God shall meet together, without fear of being dis- 
turbed by the Antichristian and Cainish brood. 

Is there not a time coming when the godly may ask the 
wicked, what profit they have in their pleasure ? what comfort 
in their greatness ? and what fruit in all their labour ? 

If you would be better satisfied, what the beatifical vision 
means, my request is, that you would live holily, and go 
and see. 

Of the Tonnents of Hell. 

Heaven and salvation is not surely moi'e promised to the 
godly, than hell and damnation is threatened to, and shall be 
executed on the wicked. 

O ! who knows the power of God's wrath ? none but 
damned ones. 

Sinners' company are the devil and his angels, tormented in 
everlasting fire with a curse. 
41 



482 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

Hell would be a kind of paradise, if it were no worse than 
the worst of this world. 

As different as grief is from joy, as torment from rest, as 
terror from peace ; so different is the state of sinners from 
that of saints in the world to come." 

Chandler df Wilson. 

It will occur, I think, to every considerate reader, that all 
this could hardly have been said by Bunyan, during the short 
and sharp illness which terminated his life. He was, indeed, 
both calm and collected throughout ; but still, his fever was 
" violent," and it proved fatal in " ten days." I am compelled, 
therefore, to regard most of these sayings as his occasional 
remarks during the whole period of his " sweating distemper," 
which lasted. Doe says, " some weeks." True, these were 
« weeks of going about :" but Strudwick's house was evidently 
Bunyan's Jwme ; and thus his sayings would be marked from 
the first by a family who loved him, when they saw him sink- 
ing under unnatural and severe perspirations. It required but 
little knowledge, and implied no weakness, to regard a distem- 
per of this kind, even in a robust frame, as the forerunner of a 
speedy death. Thus the Strudwicks would begin to treasure 
up Bunyan's sayings, from the day they saw that he was no 
longer a healthy man. 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 483 



CHAPTER XLVI. 

TRADITIONS AND RELICS OF BUNYAN. 

It is not because I have now but little room left, that this chap- 
ter is short ; but because I am jealous of whatever seems apo- 
cryphal, in the case of Bunyan. Perhaps, too much so : for I 
have rejected not a few stories, which were brought under my 
notice, during my tours of inquiry. The fact is — I have felt 
deeply the responsibilities of my position ; because, when my 
collections are restored to their several owners, this volume 
must be the chief guide of future biographers ; and I would 
not, willingly, mislead them, nor tempt them into fruitless re- 
searches. There are, however, some traditions, which claim 
credence ; and others which are worth clearing up, in the 
case of John Bunyan. His tomb, in Bunhill Fields, is one of 
the latter. There is more uncertainty rests upon that than I 
can account for. The public take for granted, because a pa- 
nel of that tomb bears his name, and the date of his death, 
that the author of the Pilgrim's Progress is underneath. He 
was interred, however, at first, in the back part of that ground ; 
now known as " Baptist Corner." The tradition (and I think 
the prohability) iSf that his friend Mr. Strudwick had "given 
commandment concerning his bones," that they should be 
transferred to the present vault, whenever an interment took 
place in it. Strudwick's own funeral was the first, in 1695 ; 
and, from the elegance of the tomb, he seems to have intended 
it rather for Bunyan than for himself. It does not say, how- 
ever, that Bunyan is underneath : and I know persons of re- 
spectability, who affirm that he is not there. One gentleman 
assures me that the coffin was shown to him in another vault, 
in quite another quarter of the ground. My friend, Joshua 
Wilson, Esq., was told, twenty years ago, that Bunyan was 
not buried in Strudwick's vault. In like manner, some of the 
undertakers, who have interred in that vault, more than doubt 
the tradition, and regard the tomb as a cenotaph. On the other 
hand, the nephew of the late Chaplain of Bunhill Fields informs 
me, that his uncle invited him to see Bunyan's coffin in Strud- 



4?4 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

wick's vault ; and the son of the late Manager of the Graves 
always understood his father to mean, when he said "that 
Bunyan was not buried there," that it was not his original 
grave. 

Such is the conflicting evidence in regard to this question. 
The probability is, however, that Banyan's remains are in the 
vault of his friend Strudwick. On no other supposition can I 
account for his name being upon the side-ipanel of the t<0mb. 
Still, there are difficulties surrounding this supposition. The 
lowermost coffin in Strudwick's vault is of lead ; and thus it is 
most likely his own. Besides, it is allowed that the coffin 
immediately above it is not a leaden one. Now, as Bunyan 
was, if not the Chaplain of Sir John Shorter, the Lord Mayor 
of London, yet his acknowledged " Teacher," as Dr. Southey 
has proved from Ellis' Correspondence, vol. ii. p. 161 ; and as 
there was an elegy on his death published under civic autho- 
rity, a copy of which is in the possession of John Wilks, Esq.; 
he was evidently popular enough to obtain a leaden coffin when 
he died. But there are not two at the bottom of Strudwick's 
vault. This is acknowledged by those who have seen it, in 
the course of the present century. This fact bears equally 
hard, however, upon the coffin in the other vault ; for if it be 
not lead, it could not have lasted till now, so as to be identi- 
fied. Besides, there is no vault so old as 168&, in the " Bap- 
tist Corner" of Bunhill Fields. 

I do not willingly disturb the public associations with Bun- 
yan's tomb. Indeed, I regret that my own have been dis- 
turbed. It is, however, my duty to state opinion as it now 
stands ; that, in the event of any future discovery, it may be 
known that we were neither ignorant of, nor indifferent to any 
thing connected with the memory of John Bunyan. For the 
sake of foreigners, I would add that his ostensible tomb is 25 
E. 2G.W. 26. N. 27. S., in Bunhill Fields, according to the 
present ground-plan. The inscription, so fer as it reo^ards 
him, has been repaired by the present Curator of the Ceme- 
tery, Mr. Upton, at his own expense. 

I have spent much time in fruitless endeavoui-^ to trace out 
the descendants of Mr. Strudwick, in order to discover, if pos- 
sible, some of Bunyan 's private letters. Charles Doe says that 
his letters were " many :" I shall not, therefore, believe, soon^ 
that they are all lost. Let others, however, help me in my 
researches. 

I gossip away on the subject of Bunyan, as if every cue 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 485 

sympathized with my own enthusiasm : whereas many will 
laugh at me. Be it so. More will forgive me, and posterity 
will thank me, for " gathering up the fragments" with zest as 
well as zeal. 

Bunyan's cottage iss still, substantially, at Elstow, although 
somewhat modernized. The gable wall does not seem to have 
been much altered, when the side walls were rebuilt. Accord- 
ingly, the old woman who now occupies the cottage shows the 
place where Bunyan's ybr^e was, and attests the identity of 
the chimney-piece where his chair stood. This chair she knew 
long and well, from having nursed in it a very old man, who 
was the owner of whatever remained of Bunyan's furniture. 
It was, she says, very heavy and roomy ; and she thinks that 
it is now in the Polehill family, in the neighbourhood. Indeed, 
she almost believes that one of that family was chaired in it, 
when he was elected a member of Parliament. Bunyan's other 
chair is in the possession of the Whitbread family, as is also 
his pulpit Bible. 

Amongst Bunyan's furniture, which her old master inherit- 
ed, she recollects some hook -shelves, " black as coal, and highly 
polished ;" and a remarkable chest, which she could never find 
another name for, but " Noah's Ark," it was " so strange and 
roomy." She waxes quite eloquent, as she describes this ark ; 
and especially when she tells how often the old floor gave way 
beneath her feet up-stairs, before she could " bring her mind to 
let the cottage be pulled down." Almost the only thing she 
now has to doat upon, is the main beam of the old building ; 
and that she has cut so many chips from, in order to gratify 
visitors, that even I was afraid to tempt her to cut one for me. 
I left, indeed, with a very small one ; but her husband sent a 
larger to me, by Miss Hillyard. 

These are the chief traditions and relics of Bunyan, at El- 
stow. His seat in the church is still pointed out; and the 
bejl-tower, where he rang and trembled, is still perfect ; and 
the green, where he played at hat, retains all its dimensions 
and verdure; but besides these things, I saw nothing unaltered, 
save the moon which shone upon them. Not a tree, nor a 
hedge, could be identified with Bunyan's early sports, or sub. 
sequent sorrows. The villagers, however, are all alive to the 
distinction he gave to Elstow. 

The chief relic of him (for his house is just pulled down) in 
Bedford, is his Church Book ; and that is nearly perfect, ex- 
cept on one leaf, from which a specimen of Bunyan's writing 

41* 



486 LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 

has been ripped off by some person. Next in curiosity to thig 
book, and to the deed now transferred to it, is an ancient cabi* 
net, of small size, but of exquisite workmanship, which Mr. 
White, the bookseller, purchased for the chapel, from the widow 
of a Baptist minister in the neighbourhood. It was long the 
property of a very old lady, usually called Madam Bithray, 
who was related to Buny^n. She gave it to the Rev. Mr. 
Voley, as a relic of the Pilgrim. The Pilgrim's staff also is 
in the possession of one of Mr. Voley's sons, who, it is said, 
would not part with it for any money. No wonder ! 

There is, in the Baptist Library at Bristol, a Concordance of 
Bunyan's, although not the Concordance which he had in pri- 
son. It is Dr. Owen's edition of Vavasor Powell's Pocket 
Concordance, and was most likely Bunyan's companion in his 
itineracies as a home missionary* The autographs it contains 
are unquestionably Bunyan's. His copy of Foxe's Book of 
Martyrs, so long in the possession of the Wontner and Parnell 
family, in London, was sold by auction some years ago, at a 
high price ; but to whom, I cannot tell. The public have, 
however, in Dr. Southey's, and in Mr. Ivimey's Life of Bun- 
yan, fac-similes of what he wrote under some of the prints in 
Foxe. I have not copied these, because I have presented bet- 
ter, although fewer. The signature of his deed is only a fair 
specimen of his usual handwriting. His spelling, however, 
seems to have been bad at all times. Here is a specimen of 
it in 1662 : 

^.^r« " Hear is John hus, that you may see^ 

^ i* Uesed indeed with all crulity ; 

But now leet us follow, and look one him, 
Where he is fullfeeld indeed to the brim." 

It was not much better twenty years afterwards. The printers 
must, therefore, have taken great pains ; for even their first 
editions of some of his books are very correct. This is, no 
doubt, one of the reasons why his publishers opposd Doe's folio 
edition. They had expended not a little money in bringing 
out the separate books. Not upon the paper, however ; for it 
seems to have been the very worst they could obtain. 

Amongst the few relics in my own possession is a shilling 
of Charles II., 1663, which was dug up in Bunyan's garden, 
and seems to have been presented by him, as a new coin, to his 
second wife. It has her initials, E. B. scratched upon it, in 
letters very like Bunyan's* 



LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 467 

What I value most in my little Museum, is a piece of Bun- 
yan's orio-inal Pulpit, obtained for me from a Home Missiona- 
rv, by my friends, the Rev.' Mr. Holland, and Mr. Paul, 
Banker, of St. Ives, in Huntingdonshire. The public will be 
almost reconciled to the breaking of this pulpit, when I inform 
them that "Howard, the Philanthropist, gave thirty pounds for 
it, and a new pulpit which cost him forty pounds." " At the 
same time, the benevolent Samuel Whitbread, Esq. gave to- 
wards the other improvements of Bunyan's Chapel 126Z., part 
of which was expended upon the ChandoMers^—Kilpin and 
White's Notes. Both Howard and Whitbread had pews in 
the Chapel, which still remain. Howard built also a small 
house, which is still perfect, by the side of the Chapel yard, 
for his accommodation on Sabbath. " In 1796, S. Whit- 
bread, Esq. left 500Z in the 3 per cents, as a bread-fund for 
ever to the poor of the congregation. His celebrated son 
raised the fund to 980Z., the sum which 500Z. purchased in 
his time ; and since then, the present representative of the 
family has renewed the bond, and pays the interest 291. Ss. 
annually."— iVo«e5. Thus the loss of the old Pulpit lead to the 
gain of the Poor, as well as to the improvement of the Chapel. 
What Howard did with it, I do not know. Mr. HilU 
yard has, however, a small Table, which was made from it ; 
on which he places occasionally Bunyan's Cup. That 
cup is a beautiful curiosity, and of exquisite workmanship. 
It seems, from the splendour of the colours, and the chaste- 
ness of both the form and ornaments, to be of foreign manu- 
facture. It will hold about a pint ; and tradition says, that 
Bunyan's broth was brought to chapel in it, for his Sunday's 

dinner in the vestry. , ^, , 

There is one fact in the history of Bunyan s Chapel, 
which illustrates the progress of public opinion. In 1806^ 
the Mao-istrates allowed the County Hall to be licensed as a 
place of worship for the Rev. S. Hillyard and his Congrega- 
tion, whilst the Chapel was shut up for repairs. Such was 
the influence of Bunyan's fame ; of Howard's and Whitbread's 
example ; and of the character of the Pastor and his flock ! 
This fact speaks volumes, as well as redeems the character of 

Bedford. 

The traditions about Bunyan's Prison are somewhat con- 
tradictory. Some of them place him in the Town Jail, and 
others in the County Jail ; and he may have been in both. 
The traditions in favour of the former, which stood on the old 



488 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

Bridge, are, however, the most numerous and consistent. 
Grose has preserved drawings of that Jail, which show at a 
glance that it is large enough to contain many prisoners, and 
strong enough to keep them. Bunyan's Prison Thoughts, 
also, agree best with the scenery from the Bridge. In like 
manner, it is well known to many that the late venerable and 
Reverend Mr. Bull of Newport Pagnell, the friend of Cowper 
and Newton, always paused as he crossed the Bridge, to pay 
homage to the memory of John Bunyan. Mr. Kilpin of Bed- 
ford was with Mr. Bull on one of these occasions, and well re- 
members his solemn pause, and his sublime exclamations. I 
have, therefore, leaned to the traditions which run in the best 
channels, in placing Bunyan in the Bridge-Jail. 

Mr. Bull, and many of his contemporaries, always believed 
that the original of Bunyan's Slough of Despond, was a hog 
on the road from Bedford to Newport Pagnell. This may be 
true; but I know some who find it in Stowe's description of 
old Moorfields. The fact is, any part of the Bedford Level, in 
Bunyan's time, would have furnished him with an emblem of 
David's "fearful pit, and miry clay." It is more difficult to 
find out the originals of the Delectable Mountains and the Hill 
Difficulty, in any of the scenery of Bunyan's circuits. 

I have been unable to identify the spot in the lilied Ouse, 
where Bunyan was baptized. It may have been the well- 
known spot, where his successors administered baptism, until 
a Baptistry was introduced into his Chapel. The old Table 
over that Baptistry is an extraordinary piece of furniture, 
which for size and strength might have been the banquet-ta- 
ble of a Baronial Hall. It is evidently older than even the 
original Chapel. 

There is a Tablet in the wall of the burying ground, to the 
memory of Hannah Bunyan, a great grand-child of Bunyan's, 
who died in 1770, aged 76 years. I could not find out where 
either his first or second wife was buried. His Elizabeth died 
in 1691, just as Doe had published his Folio; and thus " soon 
followed her faithful Pilgrim," says a contemporary, " to dwelJ 
in the Celestial City in the presence of her King and her hus- 
band for ever." His son, Thomas, was di preacher at that 
time ; but he never acquired any notoriety, although he was 
much respected. Bunyan's hlind Mary ; for whom he feared 
so much, and whom he loved so deeply, died some years be- 
fore himself. Nothing is known of John, Joseph, Sarah, or 
Elizabeth, unless we suppose that Cristiana's children sym- 



LIFE OF BUNYAN. 489 

bolize his own family : wliich is higbly probable. Mr. Ivimey 
thinks that Bunyan intended a Third Part of the Pilgrim's 
Progress, to embrace their history. He founds this conjecture 
upon a passage at the end of the Second Part. Bunyan says 
there, that " Cristiana's children are yet alive, and so would 
be for the increase of the Church in the place where they 
were." This proves that he thought well of them, on the 
whole. There seems, however, to have been some doubts in 
his mind, as to their decision : for he adds, " I may give an 
account of what I am now silent about. Meantime, I bid my 
readers. Adieu !" 

None of Bunyan's descendants are now known in England. 
Thirty years ago, I knew some Antiburgher Ministers in 
Scotland of the same name ; one of whom was not unlike the 
best portraits of Bunyan : but as there were no Baptists 
amongst the Scotch Bunyan's then, and none of miy name in 
that quarter of the country until then, it is not likely that the 
family sprung from the Pilgrim. Of the spots consecrated by 
Bunyan's memory, is the " dell in the dark wood near Hitchin," 
where he often preached at midnight ; and the chimney-cor- 
ner of a cottage, where he found shelter. A thousand people, 
it is said, have assembled there to hear liim. The venerable 
Mr. Geard, A. M. of Hitchin, told me, that Bunyan was once 
at a conference of Ministers there, when Paul's groans of the 
creation were discussed, (Rom. viii. 19 ;) but he would only 
say with Luther, " The Scriptures are wiser than L The 
meaning of this Scripture, I could never find out." Mr. Ivi- 
mey says, justly, " what a reproof to conceited and dogmatical 
interpreters ! " Bunyan could reprove even Biblical Critics. 
Charles Doe says, " A scholar overtook him near Cam- 
bridge, and asked him, how dare you preach, seeing you 
have not the Original, (Scriptures,) being no scholar? 
Then, said Mr. Bunyan, have you the original ? Yes, said 
the scholar. Nay but, said Mr. Bunyan, have you the very 
self -same copies that were written by the Penmen of the 
Scriptures ? No, said the scholar ; but we have true copies of 
them. How do you know that? said Mr. Bunyan. How, 
said the scholar : why, we believe what wc have is a true copy 
of the original. Then said Mr. Bunyan, — so do I believe 
our English Bible to be a true copy of the original. So, away 
rid the scholar !" Doc's Circular. 

Doe adds, " I once asked him his opinion on a common 
religious point, and offered my opinion for the general of it : 



490 LIFEOFBUNYAN. 

but he answered, — that where Scripture is silent, we ought to 
forbear our opinions ; and so he forehore to affirm either for 
or against ; the Scripture being altogether silent on this point." 
—Ihid. 

I cannot part with Doe, without stating that he generally 
calls Bunyan, " Our Bunyan ;" and triumphs in the assurance 
that " the Champion of our age " will be quoted in the Pulpit, 
<• to future ages," thus, — " The Great Convert Bunyan, said 
so and so." Such facts may well excuse Doe's omission of 
some of Bunyan's works, in the List he drew up. 

It is said by some, that the genius of Bunyan so awed that 
miscreant Foote, the player, that he uttered one of the most 
eloquent eulogiums on the Pilgrim's Progress, ever pronounced. 
This eulogium was once repeated to Robert Hall, at Cam- 
bridge ; but he declared it to be " as much ahove Foote, as it 
was unlike Foote." I cannot repeat it ; and, therefore, have 
no right to give an opinion. Very bad men, however, have 
said splendid things of the best. Foote felt, 

" How awful Goodness is," 

in the presence of Whitefield ; and may have felt the same 
when perusing the Pilgrim. 

But I must bring this gossip to a close. The only 'practical 
joke of Bun5^an's, I ever heard of, was played off upon one of 
his friends, who was a cooper. He saw, on passing his shop, 
some tubs piled one above another, and threw them down. 
" How now, master Bunyan," said the cooper, " what harm do 
the tubs to you ?" " Friend," said Bunyan, " have you not 
heard, that every tub should stand on its own bottom ?" 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 491 



CHAPTER XLVII. 

B U N Y A N ' S GENIUS. 

BuNTAN is the Shakspeare of theology. Like the bard of 
Avon, he had no equal among his contemporaries, and has no 
rival among his successors. Indeed no one thinks now of 
disputing the palm with Shakspeare and Bunyan : it is dis- 
distinction enough for modern ambition to be critically ac- 
quainted with their peculiar excellences, and feelingly alive to 
their characteristic beauties. 

It is a singular fact, that while philosophers may be found, 
who think themselves qualified to improve upon Newton, neither 
the poets of the present age presume to vie with Shakspeare, 
nor the moralists to imitate Bunyan. Had the author of the 
Pilgrim's Progress *' placed cherubim and a flaming sword" 
over the gates of Allegory, it could not have been more 
eflfcctually guarded, than it has been by his own success ; that 
has planted in every bosom a living conviction of his lasting 
superiority in this department of literature. He has so en- 
deared his name by the work which dignifies it, that the bare 
idea of " another pilgrim" is painful. Perhaps no one ever 
wished for a second, so completely is " the eye satisfied with 
seeing, and the ear with hearing" the frst. Were an appeal 
made to the public at large upon this subject, their reply might 
be confidently anticipated to be : — " What can the man do 
who cometh after the king ?" This is true fame, and it must 
be eternal, because Pilgrim embodies in himself, not the 
accidental, nor the occasional feelings of our nature, but the 
hereditary and essential ones. His soul is composed of por- 
tions from the spirits of all men. Were it possible to concen- 
trate in one being the souls of mankind, so that they should 
form but a single consciovsness, Pilgrim would be a correct 
miniature of the whole ; for he is not an individual of our 
species ; he is any man, and every man, by whom Christianity 



492 LIF^ OF BUNYAN. 

has been, is, or will be felt. So long, therefore, as nature and 
grace remain the same, the fame of Bunyan is deathless : 
nothing short of a change in our species, from human to 
angelic, or to infernal, could destroy the interest of the Pil- 
grim's Progress ; and even then, it would be interesting as the 
representative of a race which had been. 

Upon the supposition, that any sinless world is ignorant of 
the moral process by which man is "made meet for the in- 
heritance of the saints in light," this book, of all others, is 
best adapted to furnish the inhabitants of that world with 
information, and to interest them in our success. They could 
not mistake the generic character and condition of the human 
race, after reading it. This is more than could be said, either 
of Doddridge's Rise and Progress, or of HalVs Ziori's Travel, 
ler, characteristic as these excellent works are. They are, 
indeed, better adapted than the Pilgrim to teach us the sober 
realities of personal religion ; but both would leave a superior 
order of beings at a loss what to think of us ; and for this 
reason ; — the ordinary business of life is not sufficiently con- 
nected with the practice of godliness, to show the whole 
character of a Christian. In these books he is seen only in 
the closet, or in the sanctuary, — upon his knees, or in his 
chair ; and his mind exhibited only while wrought upon by its 
own, or divine influence ; and not as it is affected by public 
intercourse and conversation ; whereas, Bunyan's Christian 
moves over the whole platform of real life, — fills up every 
hour of the day, — and never disappears from morning till 
night. We are even made partners in his dreams, as well as 
companions of his walks. Not so with the Christian of 
Doddridge : we are only admitted into his company during 
the brief periods of retirement and devotion. We lose sight 
of him entirely until " the hour of prayer" return, and can 
only conjecture how he has been employed in the interval, by 
the cast of his next meditations. Owing to this, Doddridge's 
Rise and Progress would only exhibit to the inhabitants of 
another world, " the inner man^^ of a Christian ; whereas 
Bunyan's Pilgrim would make them familiar with both the 
outward and inner man at once. This contrast will account, 
in some measure, for the superior interest excited in his be- 
half : he is ever before us. 

The world and the church have done justice, long ago, to 
the genius of Bunyan. He has obtained already, all the heart- 
homage which can be paid to an author, and stands in no need 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 493 

either of a vindicator or an eulogist. The monument of his 
fame has not been built with hands ; but, like the typic stone 
of Daniel, " it has become a great mountain," by natural and 
unaided growth. For, with the exception of Comper, no one 
has formally aided the triumph of Bunyan. He has had com- 
mentators, indeed ; so have the Cartoons of Raphael ; but 
both had gained the applause of the world before their beauties 
were pointed out by a critical wand : — like the sun, they re- 
vealed themselves by their own liglrt, and reached their meri- 
dian tabernacle by " horses" of their own " fire." This is 
more than can be said of Shakspeare or of Milton. Indeed, 
judging from the efforts still making in their behalf, by lec- 
turers or critics, one is tempted to suspect, that their admirers 
have a lurking fear, lest their favourite poets should sink in 
public estimation. Granting, however, that the only motive 
which influences modern critics, is, to do justice to our national 
poets, by acquainting every one with their beauties ; surely 
the writings which can dispense even with this labour of love, 
and herald themselves into general notice and admiration, 
must be of no ordinary character, — must have a charm peculiar 
to themselves. It would be worse than foolish to say, that 
critics do not think Bunyan worth analyzing : perhaps they do 
not ; but the world think him worth reading and quoting ; 
and he has gained, without assistance, both the kind and the 
degree of homage, which it is the object of criticism to exact 
for the poets. If it be " true fame to find his work in every 
cottage window," Bunyan has it: — his Pilgrim's Progress is an 
heir-loom in every family who read any thing. It is, there- 
fore, in vain to insinuate the charge of fanaticism or cant 
against Bunyan ; for, could it be substantiated from the very 
pages of his Pilgrim, it would only render his triumph more 
singular, because it would show, that his beauties are such, as 
not even his own hand could tarnish, nor his own foibles de- 
preciate. Indeed, the more defects that ignorance and im- 
pertinence impute to the author, the more astonishing is his 
success, which, it seems, nothing can hinder. 

The grand distinguishing characteristic between Bunyan 
and every other writer is, that almost all his admirers were 
made so whilst but children. No other genius, as yet, has had 
this fascination, — no other work beside the Pilgrim, this fame. 
The works which have immortalized others are, without ex- 
ception, such as childhood can neither relish nor comprehend. 
Their chief merit is, that they amply gratify the maturity of 
42 



494 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 

intellect required to grasp them ; that they come up to, and 
exceed, the expectations of cultivated and expanded minds; that 
they fill the arms of ambition to the utmost. But, whilst 
" they have depths for the elephant to swim in," they have " no 
shallows in which the lamb can wade ; " whereas, the Pilgrim 
is so constructed, as not only to interest minds of every age 
and order, but the very things which are " milk for bahes" 
are actually ^^ strong meaV^ to the same persons, when they 
become men. What is admired as history, in childhood, is 
admired as a mystery in youth ; what is admired as ingenuity 
in manhood, is loved as experience in old age. The succes- 
sive phases of our minds are, to the materials of the Pilgrim, 
what the rejiectors of the kaleidoscope are to the motley cabi- 
net of atoms, — every revolution varies the figure, but none 
exhausts our curiosity ; the last view is as fascinating as the 
first. The eye of childhood, and of old age, is equally dazzled 
and delighted by the same objects. 

The annals of literature furnish no parallel to this fact. 
The Cyrus of Zenophon comes nearest to it ; for it would be 
difficult to conceive how a school-boy could cease to feel in- 
terested, when he became a man, in the enchanting simplicity 
of that narrative. But still the interest is of an inferior kind, 
— rather intellectual than moral ; rather literary than either. 
Whereas, the Pilgrim actually exercises the maturity of those 
minds it engaged in youth ; and what was read for pleasure 
during many years, is read and remembered in the evening 
of life, both for pleasure and edification. This feature in the 
genius of Bunyan will become more familiar by a reference to 
works better known than the Cyropaedia. The books which 
please us in childhood are in general " childish things,''^ which 
we " put away " when we become men ; or, if we ever recur 
to them in after life, it is to wonder at the trifles which inter- 
ested us in early life. Even Watts' Divine Songs, although 
they do not sink in our estimation as we advance in years, do 
not rise in it, upon our own account. In regard to our own 
improvement, they are thrown aside, in common with real 
trifles, or brought into notice only for the sake of children. 
We expect to learn nothing from them by continued study. 
How different from all this is the growing interest we feel in 
Banyan's Pilgrim ! In childhood, we sit, as it were, on Chris- 
tiana's knee, listening to the tale of his 

" Hair-breadth escapes 
By flood and field." 



LIFEOFBUNYAN. 495 

In youth we join him upon his perilous journey, to obtain 
directions for our own intended pilgrimage in the narrow way. 
Before manhood is matured, we know experimentally that the 
Slough of Despond, and Doubting Castle are no fictions. And 
even in old age, Christians are more than ever convinced of 
the heights, and depths, and breadths, and lengths of Bun- 
yan's spiritual wisdom. The faltering tongue of decrepitude 
utters, as sage maxims, the very things it had lisped as amus- 
ing narrative ; and we gravely utter, as counsel to the young, 
what we prattled, as curious, to our parents. 

The writer is aware, that he dwells, even to repetition, upon 
this characteristic of Banyan's genius : he does so intention- 
ally, because the same things never have been said, nor can 
be said, of any uninspired author. He is the rainbow of ex- 
perience, fascinating for ever. And these unparalleled excel- 
lences are the more remarkable, from their being almost uncon. 
sciously produced b}^ their author. They are not the result 
of design on his part, — not the fillings-up of a studied plan ; 
but the very unity of the narrative arises more from the nature 
of the subject, than from the intention of the writer. We are 
indebted to Bunyan himself for our knowledge of this ; other- 
wise we should have given him credit for an acquaintance 
•with the rules of Aristotle, so rigidly does he adhere throughout 
to the unities of epic poetry. The following is his own account 
of the origin and progress of his great work : 

" When at first I took my pen in hand, 
Thus for to write, I did not understand 
That I at all sltould make a little book 
In such a mode : nay, 1 had undertook 
To make another, which, when almost done, 
Before I was cacare, I this begun." 

There is no reason to question the truth of this account ; for, 
to say nothing of the integrity of the author, it accords wit h 
the experience of every writer in whom imagination is pre- 
dominant. A modern critic has said of the Germans, that 
^* they do not sit down to write because they are full of a 
subject, and therefore must write, but because they are of 
opinion that much may be made of it." Now if by this 
remark, he intends to insinuate that Spenser was ^*fulV' 
of the Fairy Queen ; or Milton ^^full" of the Paradise 
Lost, or Shakspeare of his historical tragedies, the assei*- 
iion is mope than questionable : it contradicts the recorded 



496 LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 

acknowledgments of these writers, and is at variance with 
the consciousness of every man who has composed a poem 
of any length. Indeed it is not in the nature of genius to 
sketch an outline of intended creations, and then to work by 
that plan. She must, of course, have some indefinite idea 
of the object she proposes to herself; but, instead of sitting 
down, like an apothecary, to make up a given prescription by 
weight and measure, genius produces unity and effect, owing 
to one happy thought suggesting another, and to the har- 
mony which subsists among natural truths. This is not, 
however, the place in which to amplify this opinion, nor to 
confirm it by any facts, except the one before us ; — the con- 
fession of Bunyan. Now, the unity and effect of the Pil- 
grim are strictly epic, and yet he was unconscious of any 
such design at the outset. 

" And thus it was : I writing of the way 
And race of saints in this our gospel day, 
Fell suddenly into an allegory 
About their journey, and the way to glory, 
In more than twenty things, which I set down. 
This done, I twenty more had in my crown ; 
And they again began to midtlply, 
Like sparks that from the coals of fire do fly." 

This frank and familiar account of the Pilgrim's origin arid 
growth, explains the true secret of its perfection as a whole, 
and enables us to determine with certainty to what class of 
genius Bunyan belongs. 



These remarks formed the first chapter of this Work in 
1818, and were published then in the Congregational Maga- 
zine, in order to pledge myself and tempt others, to investigate 
the scattered Remains and floating Traditions of Bunyan : 
I am not accountable, therefore, for any resemblance which 
these hints bear to criticisms of a later date. Bunyan's critic, 
indeed, is not yet born. After all that has been written in 
compliment and illustration of the Pilgrim's Progress, it is 
still what Dr. Radcliffe called it, " A Phcenix in a Cage." 
The progress, however, of both critical and popular opinion in 
regard to it, would form an instructive chapter : and that, I 
intend to present in my Standard Edition of the Work. Not 
that Bunyan needs " letters of commendation" from the critics, 
or to the public; but that it may be seen at a glance, how 



LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 497 

minds of all orders, and men of all parties, have assimilated 
around this magnetic centre of unity. There are, indeed, 
exceptions to this rule ; but they are few, and all pitiable or 
contemptible. Dr. Towers, of the Biographia Britannica, is 
one of them ; and a writer in the Penny Cyclopaedia another. 
This is the place, therefore, in which to embalm these Bats, 
for the inspection of posterity: and that will be best done, 
perhaps, by applying to them what Dr. Johnson said, with 
less reason, to Bishop Percy's little daughter. The Philoso- 
pher took the child upon his knee, and asked her how she 
liked the Pilgrim's Progress. She said that she had not read 
it. " No ! " said the Doctor, '* then I would not give one far- 
thing for you." He set her down, and took no further notice 
of her. Johnson's own opinion will give weight to this new 
application of his censure. " Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress," 
he says, " has great merit, both for invention, imagination, and 
the conduct of the story : and it has had the best evidence of 
its merit ; — the general and continued approbation of man- 
kind. Few books, I believe, have had a more extensive sale. 
It is remarkable, that it begins very much like the poem of 
Dante : yet there was no translation of Dante when Bunyan 
wrote. There is reason to think he had read Spenser." — 
BosweWs Life of Johnson, p. 243. 

I have thus done whatever I could, to collect and embody 
the Remains of John Bunyan : and now, on closing this 
volume, I claim, as a right, to be judged by the fact, that 
nearly a century and a half intervened between me and my 
subject ; and that I have had to write at a time when it is un- 
usually difficult to hold the balance between Churchmen and 
Dissenters, firmly or fairly. If I have ever confounded tradi- 
tion with truth, or misrepresented any party, I have not done 
so wittingly. I might, certainly, have thrown more doubts upon 
Bishop Barlow's claims to the gratitude of posterity, for the 
release of Bunyan. Anthony Wood, as well as John Howe, 
rebuked his spirit ; and his own Letter to his Clergy in 1684, 
both enforces and justifies the persecution of Dissenters, as 
wise and necessary to " bring them to a sense of their duty, 
by the blessing of God ; for that, afflictio dat intellectum ! " 
Remains, p. 642. This is infamous : but still, time-server as 
he was, even Wood proves that he had fits of moderation. 
He alternately loved and hated James II. ; and thus may have 
pitied Bunyan. I know of no other questionable tradition in 
the volume ; except that about Farry, the lawyer, defrauding 



498 LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 

a widow. In that, he seems confounded with Yarrow, a 
lawyer of Ampthill, who w^as hung for robbing Farry's own 
widow. — Geard's Notes. 

I close this Work, just as the venerable Mr. Geard, of Hit. 
chin, has joined Bunyan in heaven. If any thing neic be ever 
added to the Traditions, it will be from his papers. 



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